Weird and Getting Weirder
by QueenStrata
Summary: (And other stories.) Team Mustang just doesn't know what to do with the general any more. A collection of short stories set during The Path of Flame and its sequels.
1. Weird and Getting Weirder

A/N: Literally only one person wondered how Roy's doing with Harry at Hogwarts, and the answer is: moping. He's definitely moping. Anyway, for no explainable reason, this little scene popped into my head. Hopefully it's as entertaining as I think it is.

I chose the major general's name by the expedient method of finding a list of WWII aircraft from Germany and choosing the one that entertained me most.

This story can be read without reading _The Path of Flame_ first, provided you understand that Harry is Roy's son and away at Hogwarts. Otherwise, this story is set somewhere between chapters two and four of the main story.

Warnings: Just Ed cursing.

Disclaimer: Hahahaha, own things? Me? Not a chance.

Summary: Roy Mustang is moping. Team Mustang are baffled. (A _The Path of Flame_ sidestory.)

* * *

 _Weird and Getting Weirder_

"Well?" Breda asked impatiently as Havoc collapsed back into his seat. "What's the verdict? Is he actually doing his work?"

"Worse," Havoc moaned. "He's moping."

There was a long silence, eventually broken by Fuery trembling, "Moping? The general? Are you _sure_?"

"You don't believe me, you go in there!" Havoc pointed at the door furiously, though he remained slumped in his seat. "He was looking at that picture on his desk the entire time I was in there. I tell you, he's been ruined!"

"Who's been ruined?" asked a voice that decidedly did not belong in the office anymore. Havoc made a very embarrassing noise that he was never going to live down and jumped up straight in his chair. He looked up and saw the man-ruining, er, man himself and gave Ed what he hoped wasn't a terrified look.

"Nobody!" he said hurriedly.

"Nobody you know," Breda corrected quickly.

"It was after your time," Fuery rushed to assure him.

"Riiiight," Ed said slowly, giving the three of them an unimpressed look. He didn't even glance at Falman, but then Falman was dutifully doing his work (the traitor). "You're talking about Roy, aren't you?"

"How do you _know_?" Havoc asked mournfully.

"Well, I'm sleeping with him. Guess at least his annoying omniscience rubbed off on me." Ed grinned rather nastily at them, undoubtedly enjoying watching them squirm at the reminder that he'd snagged what was once the most eligible bachelor in Central. Havoc still wasn't sure how Ed had gotten the man to settle down. He was not, in fact, entirely certain he wanted to know. "So what was that about him being ruined again? Anything I should worry about?"

"It was a joke!" Havoc yelped. "I was totally joking and he's perfectly normal."

Ed raised an eyebrow at him, clear disbelief writ across his face. Then he turned to lean on Fuery's desk, giving the small man a grin that was all tooth and no mercy.

"He's moping!" Fuery blurted immediately. Havoc would say he was a bad soldier, breaking so quickly, but then Ed was terrifying. He'd almost wet himself the last time Ed had given him that grin. "Jean says he's just staring at the picture on his desk, but I don't see what that's got to do with him being ruined, that was all Jean."

Ed turned, very slowly, in Havoc's direction, the grin not slipping once. Havoc gulped, pushing himself into the back of his chair, and silently cursed both Breda and Fuery as traitors. (Falman got a pass because he was now dutifully doing Havoc's work in preparation for his untimely demise.)

"It's just, he used to be okay when Harry was gone," Havoc said through the quiet prayer chanting in the back of his head. "You know, he'd pout a little, then get some coffee and be back to normal. But now, now he's moping!"

"And don't think we haven't noticed you haven't been by all week," Breda said helpfully.

"Right!" Havoc agreed, grateful when Ed's eyes moved to the larger man for that brief moment. "Right, Harry's gone and you haven't been dragging him out to lunch this week, and now he's just sitting in his office. Moping. Like a housewife whose husband has gone off to war."

"...Uh huh," Ed said dryly, and it was clear that he was just humoring Havoc at this point. One last mercy before he was ripped to shreds?

"I always knew you were going to drive him round the bend, boss," Breda said conversationally. "But I always figured it would be more, y'know, violent. Fire and explosions and at least one wall coming down. Kinda hoped we'd get a day off from it."

"Still not seeing where the ruining comes in to play," Ed prompted.

Havoc shared a long look with Breda and Fuery and even Falman, who took his attention away from Havoc's work long enough to almost raise his eyebrows at him.

"It's just, like," Havoc started, then floundered a bit uncertainly. The look on Breda's face said he was alone on this one, probably because the man hadn't made out a will yet. "He's _married_ , boss!"

"Married," Ed said flatly. The evil grin was gone, but the glint in his eyes was probably worse.

"Settled down," Breda clarified helpfully.

"An old family man," Fuery added mournfully.

"No more dashing Flame Alchemist, taking names and breaking hearts," Havoc concluded, figuring he'd might as well get his say in if he was going to die anyway. " _You've_ ruined him, is what I'm getting at here." Then he closed his eyes and prayed for the mercy of a swift death.

When a few moments passed without any violence occurring to his person, Havoc slowly cracked one eye open, not sure he wanted to know what was coming for him. But Ed was just standing there quietly, staring at Havoc with the weirdest look on his face.

"Married," Ed eventually said again in an even flatter voice than before, and then fell back into silence. Oh god, he'd broken the boss; no way Mustang was going to go easy on him for this one. He was just considering fleeing for the safety of the hallway when Ed gave himself a little shake and...smirked? Then, still without saying anything, he turned and strolled over to Roy's door and kicked it open in a move that hadn't changed since he was twelve.

"Hey, bastard, stop pretending to work!" Ed said, a very standard greeting for him. "You're buying me lunch!"

"Hello to you too, Edward," they heard the general say, but he was clearly moving around the room in response to the demand. "My morning was fine, thank you for asking. And how was yours?"

"Weird and getting weirder," Ed replied, backing out of the room in front of Roy. He was grinning up at the general a little soppily, which was still strange, but not as strange as the downright smitten look the general gave him. "You been listening to the shit your men have been saying lately?"

"I find it's usually in my best interest to ignore them to the best of my ability," Roy replied dryly, but the look he gave Havoc said _he knew_. Havoc sunk down in his chair to make himself a smaller target. "But every so often, snippets slip in to my awareness anyway."

"Yeah, like I'm buying that," Ed snorted. "Nosy bastard, you've probably got the outer office bugged to make sure you don't miss anything."

"I assure you, that isn't necessary," Roy said. Ed fell in by his side as they crossed the room. "They're not exactly discreet."

A long silence followed the sound of the door closing behind them. Havoc waited two full minutes to make sure they weren't coming back before he turned to the other three and said plaintively, "Was that strange? I'm not the only one surprised by their reaction, right?"

Unfortunately, he didn't get a reply, because at that moment Hawkeye walked in the door. She gave them all a raised eyebrow, glanced pointedly down at the paperwork Falman was doing (he immediately slid it, half finished, back on to Havoc's desk), and strode off to her seat when it became obvious nobody was going to say anything. Very belatedly, the four of them gave her half-hearted salutes as they remembered she was a major now. Salutes, they knew, even bad ones, would mollify her slightly. _Very_ slightly.

They kept their heads down for the next hour, working hard under the major's watchful eye, but nothing could keep them from glancing up as they heard the general approaching. He was humming, off-key and a little tuneless, but he was definitely humming. Havoc shared an intrigued look with Breda, then pretended to go back to work as the door opened.

"Sir!" Hawkeye said when Roy entered, standing and giving a crisp salute. The others followed suit with various degrees of professionalism. "Major General Focke-Wulf will be here in ten minutes for your meeting, sir."

"Thank you, Major,' Roy said, drifting over towards the desks with an eye on Havoc. Havoc managed to sit up straight and look the general in the eye, though he wouldn't have had the courage to do so a second time.

"Sir?" Havoc said.

"Do you really think settling down ruins a man, Lieutenant?" the general asked, too casually. Havoc thought he heard Hawkeye sigh in exasperation, but didn't dare look at her to be sure. "I rather think marriage has a nice sound to it, personally."

"...Sir?" Havoc repeated, flabbergasted. Was he saying he wanted to _marry Ed_? That was just-that wasn't possible.

"Something to think about, Havoc," Roy said briskly, seeming to enjoy the stunned looks he was receiving. "Maybe if you did something about that fear of commitment, you'd be able to keep a girlfriend for once." Then he sauntered over to his office, humming again.

"...Oi," Havoc said belatedly, the general's parting insult finally sinking in, too late. "That was low."

"I don't think the general's ruined," Fuery piped up a little timidly.

"He's certainly settled down, though," Breda said. "Did that sound to anyone else like he was thinking about proposing to Ed?"

"I thought I was going crazy," Havoc said faintly.

"Boys," Hawkeye interrupted, voice clipped and flat as ever, but then Hawkeye never had to raise her voice for attention. Havoc managed to share a final disbelieving look with Breda, but then Hawkeye cleared her throat and they all returned to their paperwork.

Anyway, there was no way Roy would propose to Ed. The general was clearly just trying to keep them on their toes and off-guard. ...Right?

* * *

A/N: Team Mustang is an absolute joy to write, I'm not even being sarcastic. Now that I've written this, I just want to write all kinds of scenes from Havoc's POV. Alas! That won't fit into the story properly, so it's unlikely to happen.


	2. Feeling Good

A/N: The budget lady is a civilian, and I've named her after a real person because it was the first name that came to mind. For anybody who doesn't know, Ada Lovelace is widely regarded as the first person to ever write a computer program, though the "computer" in question was only a concept of her mentor/boss Charles Babbage. Anyway, I have no idea if Ms. Lovelace will ever make a reappearance, but I kind of hope so. She's adorable.

The song Roy is humming (and the title of this story) are real. My preferred version of _Feeling Good_ is sung by Nina Simone, though there have been many covers of it.

YOU SHOULD READ _THE PATH OF FLAME_ CHAPTER SIX BEFORE YOU READ THIS STORY. It's set the day after the events of that chapter.

Warnings: Cursing? Hughes being ridiculous? Hughes in general?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all very upsetting.

Summary: Roy shows up to work humming, distracted, and a little bit too happy. Nobody is sure how to react.

* * *

 ** _Feeling Good_**

 _Birds flyin' high, you know how I feel  
_ _Sun in the sky, you know how I feel  
_ _Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel  
_ _It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me.  
_ _Yeah, it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, ooooooooh...  
_ _And I'm feelin' good.  
_ _-Nina Simone_

"Do you hear humming?"

Havoc blinked dumbly at Breda for a moment, then cocked his head to the side and focused his hearing. It took him a moment to catch it over the sounds of a busy office and the wind howling against the windows, but eventually he caught the faint off-tune humming. It was getting steadily louder, as if the person was moving in their direction, but the only one missing from the office was Mustang. And, this early in the morning, there was no way it could be him.

"It sounds like the general," Fuery said, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I think...yes, I recognize the song. It's _Feeling Good_."

"No way that's the general," Breda voiced Havoc's thoughts. "Ms. Lovelace is due for his budget meeting this morning and he hasn't even gotten Hawkeye's coffee bribe yet."

"It's not a bribe," Hawkeye said flatly. "Get back to work."

Havoc and Breda shared a disbelieving look, but neither of them were brave enough to point out that she only got the general good coffee when there was a lot of urgent paperwork to finish first thing in the morning. Instead they ducked their heads back towards their desks, dutifully pretending to work.

Finally, the sound reached something of a crescendo as the office door swung open, and sure enough, it was the general himself who stepped through. He was smiling a little to himself, a distant look on his face, and didn't even seem to notice that everyone (even Hawkeye) was too surprised by his good mood to salute him.

"Sir?" Hawkeye eventually said, an unfamiliar tone of uncertainty to her voice.

Mustang finally looked up, seeming to be surprised to see them all, and grinned. It was wide and beaming, as if nothing could possibly make him happier than to see them all in the office that morning, lack of salutes and all. Havoc wondered for a moment just what Ed could possibly have done the night before (or, well, that morning) to put such a look on the general's face. But that wasn't Mustang's 'I'm getting better sex than you could even dream of' grin, which usually he only gave to Havoc anyway. And it certainly wasn't his 'I got laid this morning' contentment, which didn't make him happy so much as smug.

What the hell was going on?

"Is that coffee from the café?" Mustang asked in an unusually cheerful tone, making a beeline for Hawkeye's desk. "Well, don't I feel spoiled this morning?"

Hawkeye shot the rest of the team a faintly baffled look before she addressed the general again. "Sir," she said, all traces of uncertainty gone from her voice. "I have several urgent files from General Hakuro that need your immediate attention, and Ms. Lovelace is due for your budget meeting at eleven hundred. You also have a meeting with General Focke-Wulf at fourteen hundred in regards to the ambassadors arriving next month."

"Lovely," Mustang said without any trace of sarcasm. Everyone stared at him. "I'll just get this started then, shall I? Thanks for the coffee." He picked up the paperwork and the coffee, then strolled over to the inner office, humming again. They could still hear it after the door closed firmly behind him.

There was a stunned silence for nearly an entire minute before Hawkeye slowly sank back into her seat. She picked up a perfectly neat stack of paperwork and tapped the edges on the desk a few times, then grabbed a pen and serenely resumed working. There was almost a smile on her face. Either she was just blindly choosing to enjoy the general's good mood (unlikely), or she'd somehow figured out what had caused it.

"No way Ed's _that_ good in bed," Breda said in a carrying whisper. Hawkeye didn't even look up. "What the hell is going on?"

"Maybe he's just happy to have Harry back?" Fuery suggested, though he didn't sound as if even he believed that theory.

"Harry's been home for ages, and he's leaving again in a week," Havoc said with a shake of his head. "No, this is something new and unusual. No idea what though."

A confused look passed between all four of them, until finally Falman shook his head and actually started doing his work again. With no clues to analyze, Havoc heaved a sigh and followed suit before Hawkeye decided to get on his case. The general would explain his good mood eventually.

The morning passed slowly as Havoc trudged his way through his own paperwork. The general didn't emerge from his office even once, and he was unusually prolific; every time Hawkeye brought him new paperwork, she came out with a completed pile and a bemused look on her face. Falman had just stepped out of the office to file some of the latest pile and take his lunch when the door opened again and Ed walked in with Harry clinging to his right hand. Both of them had their noses stuck in books. Ed didn't even look up as he wandered towards the inner door, but Harry gave them all a beaming smile that looked just as happy as the general's had that morning.

Another mystery: what could make Harry and his dad so thrilled at the same time?

"Edward-san!" Hawkeye said, getting up from her seat and walking briskly over to them. She grabbed Ed by the shoulders and steered him in the direction of the desks instead. Ed made a questioning noise, looking up from his book. "The general's budget meeting has gone over schedule," the major explained to him in her most no-nonsense voice. "I'm going to have to ask you to wait out here until he's done."

"Oh, alright," Ed said calmly, apparently not bothered by this news in the slightest. Havoc gave up all pretenses of working to stare at him, marveling at the lack of snarling. Ed usually responded to any delays on Mustang's part with enough cursing to offend even the most hardened soldier, but this time he seemed downright relaxed about it. "Hope it won't be long. I'm starving and Al's waiting for us."

Which meant the entire family was in a good mood, about to eat out together on a workday even though Al was usually busy. Maybe something good had happened with Al? But Mustang was too happy just to be responding to Ed's own happiness.

Havoc's head was starting to hurt from thinking about it. Maybe he should just ask Ed? The younger man could always be counted on to be painfully direct, and it couldn't be anything too embarrassing if even Harry knew about it.

Of course, before Havoc could get Ed's attention, Mustang's door opened and Ms. Lovelace stepped out.

"Oh, hi, Ed!" she said cheerfully, stepping over to the blond with a bounce in her step.

"Hey, Ada," Ed replied with obvious warmth. He got along surprisingly well with the young bookkeeper, which couldn't be said of his reaction to most women who spent extended time in Roy's presence. "How's the budget?"

Ms. Lovelace grinned at Ed, but when she opened her mouth, it wasn't with a response to his question. Instead she gasped quite loudly, clutching her files to her chest and staring hard at Ed's left hand. "What is _that_?" she asked dramatically.

Ed looked down at his own hand and smiled as if he couldn't prevent himself. He shrugged and said, "Oh, well, you know," a little awkwardly, which didn't explain anything.

"He _didn't_!" Ms. Lovelace said as if it had. Clearly she had managed to tune into the Elric brothers' telepathic wavelength. "Let me see, let me see!"

She grabbed Ed's hand without an invitation, and Ed _let her_. Just stood there grinning as she lifted it to her face and inspected what Havoc could now see was a ring. Havoc felt his jaw slacken as Breda made an inarticulate noise of surprise and Fuery let out something that sounded suspiciously like an excited squeal.

"Oh, Ed, it's lovely and it's so _you_!" Ms. Lovelace finally said, and threw her arms around Ed without warning. "Congratulations!"

As if that last word was a summons, the outer door was flung open as Colonel Hughes stepped in with enthusiasm. His beaming smile was even wider than it usually was as he bounced over to Ed, grabbed him in a hug that looked tighter than Armstrong's rib-cracking grip, and announced, "I knew you'd say yes!" Apparently not even needing a response, he flew over to Mustang's doorway where the general was looking out at the pandemonium in his office with a helpless sort of smile. Uncharacteristically, Mustang didn't dodge out of the way when Hughes smacked him on the back jauntily.

"I told you you had nothing to worry about!" he told Roy in a stage whisper.

"Maes," Mustang said in a voice that absolutely failed to sound exasperated.

"Ah, just wait until you get to experience the joys of wedded bliss, Roy!" Hughes continued blithely, ignoring his friend's interruption with the ease of familiarity. "The beautiful ceremony, the knowledge that you've bound yourselves together for life, the-well, I guess you've got the living together and the children worked out already, haven't you? Anyway, I brought some of my wedding photos with me to help celebrate!"

"Maes, I was _at_ your wedding," Mustang said, discreetly trying to edge away from the sheath of pictures Hughes had pulled out of an inner pocket. "Believe me; I remember the event quite well."

"We kind of don't have time for pictures anyway," Ed said. He'd finally managed to escape Ms. Lovelace's excited grip, and headed over to save Mustang from wedding picture hell. "I don't want to make Al wait."

"And I'm sure he's already there," Mustang said in an agreeable tone. He didn't make any move to leave though, just grabbed the hand Ms. Lovelace had so recently released and pulled Ed toward him. Ed stepped forward willingly, pressing himself into Mustang's embrace and pulling him down for a kiss. Harry, who had remained lost in his book until that point, let out a long-suffering sigh no eleven year old should be able to achieve.

"They've been even grosser than usual since last night," the kid said in a disgusted tone.

"He proposed at dinner then?" Hawkeye asked, though Havoc would be surprised if she actually needed the confirmation. "That explains why he suddenly wanted to take you to a nice restaurant."

"They gave us free desert and champagne as congratulations," Harry said. "Champagne is gross. The cake was good though."

"It was good cake," Ed agreed, fondly reminiscent. He was leaning into Mustang, who hadn't let go of him, and he grinned up at the older man mischievously. "It was a good _night_."

"Ergh," Harry said, because of _course_ Roy Mustang's son would get the innuendo.

"Please don't say things like that in front of my son, darling," Mustang said fondly. "I'm afraid we've already traumatized him for life."

"You have," Harry said gravely.

Ed laughed a little meanly, giving Harry an unrepentant grin. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

"Of course, love," Mustang said, actually pushing himself out of his doorway this time. "Have you already told your brother?"

"Nah, I wanted to get his reaction in person," Ed replied casually. As they walked out of the office, Mustang held out a hand and Harry ran over to hold it. Nobody made a sound as they listened to Ed's and Mustang's fading voices.

"I can't believe it," Havoc said faintly once he couldn't hear Ed any longer.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Breda said agreeably.

"But isn't it kind of sweet?" Fuery asked, smiling almost as soppily as Ed and Mustang had been. "Haven't you heard about what happened in England the other night?"

Havoc blinked out of his shock to stare at the smaller man, and noted everyone besides Hughes and Hawkeye doing the same. Fuery adjusted his glasses nervously, flushing under the scrutiny.

"Did something happen at that party they went to?" Breda asked curiously.

"Now is not the time to gossip," Hawkeye interrupted, a clear warning in her voice. Hughes nodded in agreement with her, looking unusually serious. Havoc and Breda shared an intrigued look, but obligingly took the hint and didn't pressure Fuery for information.

"Oh, I'd better get going!" Ms. Lovelace said into the ensuing silence, catching a look at the clock. "I'm late for my next meeting!"

"Did anybody ask them if they've made any plans yet?" Hughes asked as they watched her leave. Everyone murmured that they hadn't a little awkwardly, but really, what had Hughes been expecting? Most of them were too surprised by the revelation to even consider anything so practical. "Well, I'll go call Gracia and give her the good news anyway! She'll be so pleased; she's been waiting for this since he got the ring..." And Hughes wandered out as well, still talking to himself as he grinned goofily down at his stack of pictures.

"Wait, how long has Mustang had that ring?" Havoc called after the colonel, but didn't receive an answer. With a loud sigh, he slumped back into his seat to stare at the ceiling. "Do you guys realize how surreal life has been since Ed moved in with him? I keep expecting to wake up in a cold sweat. _Engaged_ , my god."

"Well, look on the bright side," Breda said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We get to tell Falman when he gets back. We might actually get a reaction out of him."

Havoc grinned slowly, ignoring Hawkeye's exasperated sigh. Okay, that might actually be worth the shock.


	3. Just Cat Things

A/N: This miiiight not be that great, but insomnia and NaNoWriMo are harsh mistresses. Anyway, in lieu of an actual update to the story, here's a little blurb about Minerva's cattiness. (You may have seen this idea floating around the internet, where Minerva just does Cat Things when she turns into a cat. Apparently it's _really inspiring_ , because here's the first in what will probably be a series of Cat!Minerva being, well, a cat.)

Warnings: Sheer, unadultured crack. In the best way.

Disclaimer: You can tell I don't own anything because the characters weren't actually this ridiculous in the books.

Summary: Minerva McGonagall is a former Auror, a stern professor, and a formidable witch. It just so happens that sometimes she's also a cat.

* * *

 _Just Cat Things_

Albus allowed himself a weary sigh as he entered his office, yearning for bed even as he prepared himself to finish his tasks for the night. He had supplies to gather for the major still, and owls to send to the Ministry to explain just why a foreign official would be gaining custody of their precious savior. Albus wasn't certain he liked the situation himself. Was it right for him to leave the boy in such distant hands, where he wouldn't be able to look in on him himself? Not to mention that the poor young man had so recently returned from the battlefield. There really was no telling if Mustang was emotionally prepared for the task of raising a child, but what choice did he really have? Voldemort wasn't really dead, not if the prophecy was to be believed, and Harry's survival was tantamount. If he was a little bit neglected, well, that was something they could take care of once the child came to Hogwarts. It might even turn out in his favor, in fact, considering what he'd have to ask Harry to do...

But that was in the future. Right now he had to purchase a small supply of diapers and formula—perhaps he'd send Severus for it—then talk Fudge down from making Harry a ward of the state, and, most urgently, deal with the cat in his room.

Albus slowly closed the door and narrowed his eyes at the tabby on the far side of the room. The cat narrowed her eyes back, tail twitching once. When he took a step forward, the cat leisurely got to her feet, stretched luxuriously with all of her claws out, and stepped daintily over to the most expensive and breakable sensor on his tables. She batted at it curiously with one paw, making it wobble slightly, and then sat back on her haunches. Not once during this entire procedure did she take her eyes away from his own.

"Don't," Albus said, very softly and with complete calm. The cat immediately started licking at her shoulder, an innocent relaxation to her posture. Taking that as agreement, he took a few steps across the room to save the instrument; the cat, instantly alert, was on her feet again with one paw poised to bat at the sensor again.

"Minerva," Albus said in his sternest voice, not that this had ever worked. The cat's tail twitched once, twice, and then she very deliberately pushed her new toy over the edge of the table. It landed with a tinkling crash and a little cloud of rainbow sparks, and she sat back on her haunches again. She still hadn't lifted her gaze from Albus's own, but Albus solved that by sighing again and closing his eyes as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"Mreooooowwww," the cat said in a reproving tone.

"I assure you that Major Mustang is a perfectly suitable guardian for the boy, Minerva," Albus said tiredly, walking over to the chair behind his desk and collapsing on it. He pulled over some parchment to prepare his first letter, but the cat nimbly leapt on top of it. Albus glowered at her. She laid down on the parchment, tucking her paws up underneath her chest, and glowered right back. "Minerva, really. What purpose does this serve?"

"Meowww," the cat replied.

Albus leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers in front of his face, regarding the cat with his most serious expression, but the cat just stared impatiently back at him. Nothing for it but an explanation, then.

"You are aware, of course, that I don't truly believe Voldemort is gone for good. The prophecy clearly says Harry is the only person who can defeat him, so his survival is of the most import. If Petunia were still alive, I would have left the boy with her, to take advantage of his mother's sacrifice, but in lieu of a living relative, the best I can do is to set him up with a family that's both powerful enough to protect him, and smart enough to outwit their opponents. Mustang is young, I admit, but you've heard the stories of what his alchemy can do. And Berthold always did have complaints about how clever and manipulative his young protégé was. If anybody will be capable of keeping Harry Potter alive, it will be him."

The cat stared at him for a few more seconds before she relaxed and finally looked away—only to roll over onto her back and give him a beseeching look.

"I'm not falling for that trap again, Minerva," Albus stated firmly. "Please get off my parchment. I need to contact the Minister to prepare Harry's adoption papers."

"Meooow?" the cat said mournfully, kneading at the air and looking far more adorable than a lady her age should be capable of. Albus gave in reluctantly, scratching the cat's head, and smiled as she flopped onto her side and started purring. She looked every inch the spoiled cat, such a complete juxtaposition to her normal demeanor that it was even cuter than it may have been otherwise.

"I wish I knew where your dignity went when you let yourself be a cat for extended periods," Albus said seriously to his Deputy Headmistress. The cat continued purring, though her ears did twitch in his direction. "Do you think you might regain it long enough to pass a message on to Severus? I was hoping to send him out to purchase a few supplies to send to Amestris for Harry."

The cat opened her eyes and regarded him with an amused expression before she rolled back to her feet and stretched again. Then, tail up and showcasing the dignity she'd forgone in favor of being petted, she made her way out of his closed office in the mysterious way of cats everywhere.

Albus smiled after her for a moment, then shook his head and turned back to his desk. A frown stole across his face. There was a neat collection of claw marks ruining his good parchment.

* * *

A/N: For the record, I do at some point plan on writing Minerva doing Cat Things at Snape. And other people. It just may be…some time coming. Yeah.


	4. Long Night

A/N: I regret nothing, even though I really _should_ be writing the main story.

Set, uh, I guess a few years before the first actual chapter of _The Path of Flame_. Harry is around eight years old; Ed is still pretty awkward about being in love with Roy. Al is…visiting the Hughes's while Harry and Roy are sick, because Ed would have a fit if his little brother died of the flu.

If Roy doesn't seem that sick, it's probably because the worst thing I've ever had is a sinus infection. Inexplicably powerful immune systems for the win!

Warnings: Nothing, just fluff. Okay, Ed cursing because…Ed.

Disclaimer: Oh these poor, poor characters. They're so lucky I don't own them.

Summary: Edward Elric was a godsend, and Roy would be willing to fight anyone who said otherwise. Just as soon as he had the energy to get out of bed again.

* * *

 _Long Night_

Edward Elric was a godsend, and Roy would be willing to fight anyone who said otherwise. Just as soon as he had the energy to get out of bed again.

"You're such a fucking child," Ed said unceremoniously as he re-entered the room. "I honestly don't know who's more dramatic: you or your son."

Roy opened his eyes just far enough to glare at the brat, but they fluttered shut again almost instantly as Ed turned over the cold compress on Roy's head. He honestly couldn't stop himself from moaning gratefully, probably proving Ed's point, but he didn't care as long as he had the cloth cooling him down. Gentle fingers pushed some of Roy's sweat-soaked hair behind his equally sweaty ear, so Roy opened his eyes again and gave Ed a weak smile. Ed was smiling back at him, eyes filled with a warmth he only used to show to Alphonse, and Roy nearly forgot how sick he was for a moment as he marveled at the path his life had taken. A year ago he would've sworn Ed hated him, had despaired of ever seeing a smile or trust directed at him, but despite all odds he'd ended up with his former subordinate happily living with him.

"I love you," Roy said helplessly, and his smile strengthened a little when Ed blushed and looked away, still uncomfortable with the intimacy.

"Yeah, you too," he muttered in the tone every embarrassed teenager has used since time immemorial. Roy really, really wanted to kiss him, but strongly suspected he'd get an automail knee for his trouble.

"How's Harry?" he asked instead, even though he knew Ed would have informed him if his son had taken a turn for the worse.

"Sleeping," Ed returned with a shrug. "Not very well, but that cough medicine knocked him out. Wish the same could be said of you. Just hope his fever doesn't get any worse—I'm not looking forward to taking him to the hospital without you."

"I stay awake just be contrary," Roy said seriously. Ed snorted, looking as if he fully believed Roy did just that. "And I think his fever will break tonight. You get a knack for predicting these things after enough years."

"Right," Ed agreed, unimpressed and disbelieving. "Well, you need anything else before I ring the Hughes's and check up on Al?"

Roy barely managed a shadow of his usual grin, but it was entirely worth the effort when Ed blushed again and muttered "pervert" as he left the room.

Roy sighed and slouched back in his pillows to settle in for a long night.

xxxxx

He was woken from a sound sleep a few hours later by the sound of a terrified scream. He heard a muffled thunk and cursing from the other side of the bed, but ignored Ed entirely as he rushed for Harry's room. Ed was yelling for him to "get the fuck back in bed, Mustang!" but he couldn't; if something was happening to Harry, he was going to make whoever was in his son's room regret it. Even if he had to strangle that person with his bare hands.

He skidded to a stop in the doorway to Harry's room, hanging on to the doorjamb as he quickly looked around the room. He almost collapsed in relief when he saw that nothing was amiss.

"Fuck, Mustang," Ed panted behind him. "You move fast for a sick man."

He spared Ed a brief glare, but any retort he could've made was cut off when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sob from Harry's bed.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Roy asked, voice a harsh whisper as he forced his shaking legs to carry him across the room. The second he collapsed on the bed, Harry launched himself into Roy's arms, burying his face in his chest and shaking. Roy wrapped his arms firmly around his son, kissing the top of his head.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he asked quietly. Harry nodded jerkily, but still didn't say anything. "Do you want to talk about it?" This time Harry shook his head, fervently, and Roy wouldn't be surprised if he was still too terrified to talk. "Do you want me to stay here with you until you fall asleep again?" Harry nodded again, tightening his grip on Roy as if he could burrow himself closer. Roy groaned a little as he dragged reluctant feet onto Harry's bed, but managed a smile for his son when the boy looked up at him in concern.

"I ought to take a picture of this," Ed said drily. "And show it 'round the office next time Havoc and Breda bitch about what a hardass you are." But then he was tucking the covers around the two of them, running a gentle hand over Harry's hair and pressing dry lips to Roy's forehead, and Roy couldn't bring himself to be annoyed.

"I'll go get your compress and some water," Ed continued softly. Roy made a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement, eyes closed already, and was asleep again by the time Ed left the room.

* * *

A/N: I kind of hope this cheers somebody else up; it's not much, but it made my cold feel a little less dreadful.


	5. Wicked and Worn

A/N: Okay, there will be one more side story before I get started on the second book, I promise. This wasn't the one I had planned, but I need a break from that one (it's hard to write, okay?), so I figured I'd post this since I found it and finished writing it last night.

You might recall in chapter, uh, four maybe? of _The Path of Flame_ that Harry mentioned being kidnapped once. This is the kidnapping. Plus bonus irritable Ed! I guess technically this is set during the series, but don't ask me when.

Title is taken from the lyrics of _Low Man's Lyric_ by Metallica.

Warnings: Violence, death, and cursing. Hey, this is a good one!

Disclaimer: I own nooooothing.

Summary: Roy's son is kidnapped. (Edward doesn't know this, but he's irritated anyway.)

* * *

 _Wicked and Worn_

Roy is never having one of the corporals pick up Harry again. Honestly, he doesn't even know what he was thinking in the first place; as busy as they were, surely he could have spared even Fuery or Falman for such a task? At least he _knew_ they were both reliable, not to mention one hundred percent loyal to him instead of whatever group had managed to get their hands on his son. If anything happened to Harry, he was never going to forgive himself. He couldn't even concentrate as it was. They'd been trying to find him for hours already, with no luck yet, and his mind had finally given up to instead run in shrill panicked circles. His feet were taking him in a similar route, pacing the edges of the rug laid out in front of the fireplace while he wished futilely for a reason to be running the streets instead.

"Sir," Hawkeye's always-professional voice interrupted his thoughts, and he came to a halt mid-step in surprise as he looked over toward the door of his office. He hadn't even heard her knocking.

"Have you found him?" Roy asked urgently, forcing himself not to feel any hope. To his surprise, Hawkeye gave him a slim smile, a cold light in her eyes that made Roy's heart pick up speed in anticipation.

"Yes, sir," she said without emotion. "A team has cornered the kidnappers in a warehouse on the far side of town, and they have called in a list of demands to be delivered in no less than an hour. I've already taken the liberty of calling a car for you."

"Have you gathered what they want?" Roy asked.

"No, sir," Hawkeye said.

Roy smiled grimly. "Good."

They made it across town in record time, skidding to a halt in front of the warehouse in question with probably more noise than was wise. Undeterred, Roy jumped out of the car as it was still stopping, and glared impatiently at the major waiting for him. The woman in question straightened her spine and gave him a perfunctory salute.

"Sir!" she said. "The kidnappers are on the first floor of the warehouse and appear to be getting impatient. They haven't made any further demands, but they're threatening to shoot the boy if nobody delivers what they want soon. What are your orders?"

"You and your men are to stay out here unless I command otherwise," Roy said, fitfully tugging at his gloves to make sure they were ready for a fight. He could hear Hawkeye assembling a rifle behind him, and he smiled grimly at the major's surprised look. "I'm afraid we won't be meeting their demands this evening."

"Is this wise, sir?" the major asked, less timidly than Roy would have expected her to. He gave her a reassuring grin, and made a mental note to give her a raise.

"Are you ready, lieutenant?" he asked over his shoulder, still smiling as he looked at Hawkeye.

"Ready, sir," Hawkeye replied, clicking the last piece of rifle into place.

The two of them approached the warehouse far more silently than should have been possible in combat boots; Roy gestured to the slightly open door, and Hawkeye ghosted over to it with her weapon pointed in front of her. Once she gestured back the "all's well" sign, he strolled over himself and poked a wary head inside. The open floor was packed with rotting boxes, and there was a heavy layer of dust covering the floor as if nobody had entered the building in years. Marring the surface was a trail of bootprints, which overlapped each other in a way that made it impossible to tell how many people there were in the uncertain light.

Roy entered the warehouse anyway, carefully following the trail. Hawkeye trailed him silently. They walked until the faint murmuring they'd been hearing resolved into actual words. The kidnappers' impatience was clearly wearing tempers thin; two of them were arguing about what to do with Harry, if they should kill him and be done with it, or wait the full hour for their demands to be met.

Roy made to peer around the box he and Hawkeye were hiding behind, but his lieutenant drew him back with a sharp look and stepped in front of him herself. She ducked back down quickly, turning to Roy and sending him quick gestures; three men, all of them armed, and none of them standing beside Harry. Roy nodded seriously and gestured for her to give them a warning.

Hawkeye lined up a careful shot, and ducked back behind the box in a second. There were loud exclamations from the kidnappers as they shot in their direction, but neither of them were hit; once the gunfire stopped, Roy stepped into view himself, took stock of the situation, and snapped his fingers. One man had had the sense to grab hold of Harry and hold his gun at the boy, so Roy aimed for his weapon first. He dropped it to the floor with a hissed curse, but before any of the other men could respond, Hawkeye had stepped out at Roy's back again with her gun aimed. Roy gave his most frightening grin.

"Release him," he said shortly, "and you'll at least get out of here alive."

The three men shared is believing looks, and one of them moved his gun from where it was pointing at Roy to point at Harry instead. The man who'd had his weapon burnt out of his hand inched nervously for his gun, but stopped short when Hawkeye's rifle turned on him instead.

"You get one more warning," Roy snapped, anger burning deep in his gut. "Release him now!"

The third man, still pointing his weapon at Roy, laughed and said, "Are you willing to bet on which of us has the faster trigger, Colonel?"

Roy didn't need to make that bet; he already knew the answer. He made a quick gesture to Hawkeye behind his back and snapped his fingers; almost instantly, the report of Hawkeye's rifle could be heard with the snap of his alchemy. The man who had originally been threatening Harry was shot cleanly and instantly dropped, but the other two men took much longer to burn.

"Sir," Hawkeye said tightly after the bodies collapsed on the ground, burnt beyond recognition. "I think they're dead."

Roy blinked at her dumbly for a moment, then slowly let his hand down. "Noted, lieutenant," he said stiffly, then briskly stepped over to Harry.

Harry stared up at him with wide eyes, fear evident, but once Roy unwrapped his bindings, he collapsed into Roy's arms and clung to him tightly. Roy couldn't stop himself from clinging back, pulling his son as close as he could as he checked for injuries. All he found was a fairly mild case of rope burn around his wrists, but it still made Roy frown unhappily.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, kissing Harry on the head as he picked him up. "I know that was scary, but I won't ever let anything happen to you."

"Perhaps we should get him to the hospital, sir?" Hawkeye said, more of a demand than a question. If anybody else had tried that, Roy would have pulled rank instantly, but instead he just gave his oldest friend a fond smile and nodded. "I'll rearrange your schedule for tomorrow so you can take care of Harry. When would you like me to tell Edward to come in?"

"Give me a few days," Roy said softly, frowning at the mention of his youngest subordinate. It wouldn't be easy to see Fullmetal so soon after Harry was hurt; he could too easily imagine either one of the boys in the others' shoes, and would end up treating Fullmetal more leniently than normal if he wasn't careful.

xxxxx

Two fucking days! Ed kicked his way into the office with more force than normal, grumbling direly under his breath about the delay. A small part of him, the part of him he refused to listen to because it did stupid things like admire the way light sparkled in his superior officer's eyes, was concerned that Mustang was injured and hadn't been able to make it to the office, but he shoved it away. He didn't have time to be concerned about Mustang, who was probably just fucking slacking anyway, not when he had Al to think of. Especially not when the stupid man could have just sent Hawkeye or somebody out to debrief him on his latest mission instead of putting him off.

"I'm sure he had his reasons, brother," Al said timidly as Ed glared furiously at the team, but his softest voice still echoed loudly in the room. "Please don't be angry at him."

Ed gave him an impatient glare, but didn't respond because Hawkeye was getting up out of her seat to address them instead. Ed managed an almost respectful stance when facing her, because Hawkeye, like every fucking woman he cared about these days, scared the hell out of him.

"Good morning, Edward-san," Hawkeye said, even though it was twelve-thirty and quite clearly afternoon. Ed knew, because he'd done it on purpose to piss the bastard off. "Please wait here while I see if the colonel is prepared to see you."

Ed's eyebrows furrowed as he watched the lieutenant knock on Mustang's door. What the hell was that about? Usually she just nodded him through so he could kick the door in and make Mustang jump, but this time she was stepping softly into the office and speaking to Mustang in tones too low for Ed to make out. He didn't have long to figure out what was going on before Hawkeye was stepping out of the office again and giving Edward a very stern look.

"Please go in quietly, Major," she said very softly, her gaze threatening retribution if he didn't. So Ed frowned at her (never a scowl, because he didn't want to be shot), and strolled smoothly into Mustang's office.

"Have a seat, Fullmetal," Mustang greeted him, still reading a report on his desk. Ed took the moment to look the colonel over quickly, checking for any obvious signs of injury, but if there were any he couldn't see them through the uniform. The only thing he noticed was a certain tightness to Mustang's eyes that made him look strangely brittle, almost as if he was about to break down. Ed recalled that look from before his mom had died, when he and Al would stare at each other in silence as they waited for her to get better.

Almost as if he could sense the downwards turn Ed's thoughts had made, Mustang finally signed his report and looked up at Ed. Something in the man's gaze was almost gentle, and Ed scowled fiercely into it to hide his confusion.

Mustang smiled wryly at him. "Feeling a bit impatient, are we?" he asked. Bastard.

"You got something for me or not, Mustang?" Ed snapped back, every bit as impatient as the man thought. "Thought you were gonna give me something days ago; did you just put off the meeting because you didn't have anything?"

"I'm afraid I had an unavoidable matter to attend to," Mustang said dryly, but that same weird look in his eyes still hadn't gone away. "Unfortunately, this means some things must be delayed, and sometimes that includes my _favorite_ subordinate."

"Oh, fuck off," Ed growled, rankled all over again now that Mustang was treating him like a kid. This mood didn't fall over his superior officer often, but it irritates him a little bit more every time it happens. "I know you're busy and all, but you could've had Hawkeye or someone send me the orders."

There was a very long pause.

"Do you know, that didn't even occur to me?" Mustang mused with a disconcerting grin. Ed doggedly pretended that his heart didn't stutter at the sight of it, and forced his scowl deeper. "Of course, that's not the proper way to conduct my office anyway. Contrary to what you may believe, Fullmetal, you are a part of this military, and certain procedures should be followed."

"Fine, whatever," Ed said with a roll of his eyes. "Clearly my little brother's life doesn't mean anything in comparison to your career, but it _does_ mean something to me, so can we get on with it?"

Which made Mustang look _hurt_ , what the hell. Something like guilt settled in, but he pushed it firmly away; he didn't have time for this shit! Thankfully, Mustang didn't seem inclined to discuss the delay further. He pulled a folder out of some mysterious pile on his desk, passing it over to Ed as if nothing was wrong. Ed snorted and flipped through it quickly. Looked like another lead for the Philosopher's Stone, so hopefully the delay hadn't made things clear up already.

Mustang nattered on about the mission like usual, telling Ed all the pertinent information as if it wasn't in the folder for Ed to read for his damn self, so Ed tuned him out as he nodded along. Eventually the indistinct murmur of Mustang's voice petered out, and he looked up impatiently.

"Is that all, then?" he asked short— _quickly_ , because he wasn't short, dammit!—and got up as the colonel nodded. "We'll take the first train out, then. See you in a few days."

"Fullmetal," Mustang called after him, just as he was grabbing the doorknob. Ed half turned to look at his superior again, frowning impatiently. "Be careful."

Ed grunted out something that may have been an affirmative, then ducked quickly out of the office before things could get any weirder. "Be careful," what the hell, as if Ed walked into those near-fatal situations on fucking _purpose_!

But he couldn't shake the look on Mustang's face, the worry and fondness the man couldn't seem to hide, and he silently promised himself that, this one time, he'd listen to the colonel's orders.

* * *

A/N: Ed's head is, um, a lot easier to get into then I thought it would be? Pretty much the trick is to be constantly irritable and curse a lot, which is pretty much my default state of being anyway. So that was…cathartic. XD


	6. Long Night 2

A/N: So then I got EVEN SICKER and had insomnia on top of it, so now Ed's thick. I guess the best thing to do is consider this a sequel to _Long Night_ ; a week later, Roy has to take care of Ed. My poor boys.

Warnings: Fluuuuuuff, at least 90% of it being entirely Roy's fault.

Disclaimer: Honestly, I'm pretty sure if I DID own any of these characters, the manga would have just consisted of the characters taking care of each other while they were ill.

Summary: Ed caught Roy's flu. He's a little bit upset about this.

* * *

 _Long Night 2_

"Darling," Roy's voice called softly from the other side of the fog filling his head, and Ed moaned back. He didn't know where Roy came up with this ridiculous habit of giving Ed pet names, but the man's so sappy he's decided to roll with it, mostly out of fear that whatever he came up with next would be _worse_. He's not appreciating the names right now, though. He doesn't feel like anyone's "darling" or "dear" or even "love"; he feels like death.

"Darling," Roy said again, a little louder this time, and with a tinge of worry that Ed would feel guilty for not responding to. "I know I'm late, but I brought you medicine, and soup from that place you like."

Ed moaned again, a little more pathetically, but then obligingly rolled onto his back. Opening his eyes was another matter entirely, as they currently felt like they had tiny anvils weighing them down, but he managed to pry his eyelids apart eventually. He stared blearily up at Roy's blurry face, which smiled at him. A hand gently smoothed Ed's bangs out of his eyes, and the only reason they stayed there was that they were caked with sweat.

"Hello, beautiful," Roy purred, which was so many levels of bullshit just then that Ed wouldn't have had the words to describe it even if he could think clearly. He helped Ed maneuver himself into a seated position, then left Ed panting against the headboard as he retrieved whatever passed as medicine in his crazy head. He held a tiny plastic cup up to Ed's lips, patiently waited for Ed to make the disgusted expression that he couldn't repress—he wouldn't drink this shit at all if he thought he'd be able to swallow a pill—and then tipped the disgusting syrup into Ed's mouth. Ed swallowed it painfully, smacking his lips together a few times as if it'd get the taste of his mouth, and then glared balefully up at his boyfriend.

"I hate you," he rasped, voice barely over a whisper.

"I know, love," Roy said gently, soothingly, and Ed was _so_ going to smack him as soon as he could lift his arm again. "But you're the one who decided he could take care of me and Harry because you've, and I quote, never been sick a day in your life."

"Fuck you," Ed said.

"Not in this state, darling," Roy replied, one perfect eyebrow lifting in amusement. "I don't think it would be a pleasant experience for either one of us."

Ed wished, spitefully, that he could get Roy sick again with this flu. Bastard would deserve it.

"Do you feel up to eating some soup now?" Roy asked. "Or will it still come back up with a vengeance?"

"Gimmee," Ed barely muttered.

Roy smiled and presented the little Styrofoam bowl to Ed, along with a plastic spoon. Ed eyed it hungrily, not having eaten since the last time he threw up, and Roy smiled fondly down at him. It was fucking humiliating having Roy spoon-feed him, but somehow still a ton better than making an impossibly huge mess attempting to feed himself, so Ed put up with it with only the barest grumbling.

When Ed was done, Roy held a glass of water to his lips, which was so cold and refreshing Ed could have cried from happiness. Then he helped Ed lie down again, tucking the covers in around him, and gave Ed the barest hint of a kiss.

"Love you," Ed murmured sleepily, ready to pass out again. He didn't need to see Roy's smile as he leant over and kissed Ed once on his heavy eyelid and once on his jaw.

"I love you too, Ed," he whispered. "Get some sleep and recover soon, love."

Ed made a sleepy noise of agreement, then raised an uncoordinated arm at Roy until he could get his weak grip on the front of his uniform jacket.

"Stay," he whispered. Roy smiled again as he pulled away to throw off most of his uniform. Ed watched him, wishing like hell that he wasn't too sick to enjoy the view, then turned to curl up in Roy's arms when the taller man slid under the covers with him.

"Forever," Roy said softly, the gigantic ball of sap, and Ed just barely managed to make a contented sound before he drifted back into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

A/N: Yeah so the main story may be on hold for a little while as I recover from my probably-a-cold while working nine days straight, but at least in the meantime we have fluffy comfort fic?


	7. Dismantle Repair

A/N: Well, I knew when I planned this story that it was going to be pretty long, but almost ten thousand words? Good lord. Hopefully it's worth the time it'll take to read this monster.

The story is a little jumpy, and is emotionally all over the place, and may possibly have taken me two months to write. Gah. Hopefully it's as good as I envisioned it? There's also a light-hearted omake at the end, because I needed something fluffier after finishing this thing.

The title is an Anberlin song.

Warnings: Depression (hopefully not very triggering), Ed-level cursing, uh, not much else.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but I sure wish I did.

Summary: In the aftermath of Führer Bradley's death, Roy quietly falls apart. Ed puts him back together. "It's not that I keep hanging on / I'm never letting go."

* * *

 _ **Dismantle. Repair.**_

 _You could be my unintended  
Choice to live my life extended  
You should be the one I'll always love_

 _I'll be there as soon as I can  
But I'm busy mending broken  
Pieces of the life I had before_

 _"Unintended" - Muse_

Roy is staring out of the hospital window, still trying to get used to his missing eye, when he hears the door open behind him. He heaves a little sigh, but doesn't turn to look at his guest. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, broken down and ruined by his injuries and all the mistakes he made.

"Rise and shine, Roy-boy!" a rasping voice says, breaking him out of his thoughts. Madame Christmas. Of course. Only family and Hawkeye are allowed to see him yet, with the tribunal still debating his guilt. Hawkeye brought with her information, letting him know the fates of the Elrics and the country, but he hopes to hell Madame hasn't brought—

"Daddy?" a young voice says, trembling with uncertainty. Harry. He resists the urge to sigh his exhaustion, and turns from the window to finally look at his aunt and his son for the first time since he woke up. He wishes he had the energy to smile, but the sight of his family only makes him feel worse. He'd almost lost them. Or, more to the point, he'd almost forced _them_ to lose _him_. There are many things he can't forgive himself for, and this is almost a contender for first place. How could he leave Harry without a father? He knows how much protection the boy needs, remembers a time when only he and Hawkeye had stood between Harry and probable death, and Harry loves him so much—

Madame cuts his thoughts off again, this time by unceremoniously plopping Harry down onto Roy's lap. He grunts softly at the weight, still weak, but Harry makes a scared noise and stares up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Roy's heart aches. Harry isn't supposed to be scared of him, anybody else can be, but his own damn son...

"Harry," Roy says hoarsely, slowly raising a hand to his son's face. By some miracle, the lack of depth perception doesn't make him accidentally hit his son, and Harry gives him a tremulous smile, scooting forward to hug him. Roy puts his other hand on Harry's back, marveling at how small he is, how fragile he feels under Roy's fingers—and Selim Bradley's terrified face swims into his mind, and Roy chokes on a sob as he pulls Harry into a tight embrace and buries his face in his son's hair.

"Daddy?" Harry asks in a frightened voice. "Daddy, what's wrong?"

Roy doesn't answer. Can't answer. He's thinking about the boy he couldn't save and silently promising himself, promising Maes, promising _his son_ , that whatever else happens, he _will_ save Harry. He shouldn't think it, doesn't want to believe it, but he knows he would burn down another country for Harry, if it would keep him safe.

He has failed so many people already. He can't fail another one.

(He isn't crying. He never cries. Madame Christmas quietly exits the room anyway, and he knows she'll be standing guard outside that door until he's done clinging to his son.)

xxxxx

He's not allowed to leave the hospital for weeks. Apparently he's considered a flight risk, what with being tried for treason and all. He wants to explain to the other generals that he doesn't have the energy to go anywhere. Besides, he knew what he was in for when he made the decision to kill Pride in his own house. He'll take the punishment they hand him, whatever it happens to be.

He never says any of it, though. In fact, he rarely says anything at all. It's Hawkeye that speaks in his defense, as passionate as he's ever seen her, while he just sits quietly in the chair he's given. Hawkeye is disappointed in him, he can feel it rolling off her every time they leave the room, but she fights for him and his career anyway. He's more grateful for her and her loyalty than he has words for, but sometimes he wishes she would just give up. What use is trying to save a broken man, anyway?

When he's not at Headquarters silently listening to people debating his future, he finds himself wandering the hospital hallways like a ghost. The nurses give him a cane and allow him to wear actual pajamas, and they all give him kind smiles and titter flirtatiously behind their hands. Despite his silence, it seems his reputation is still going strong. It'll be a good thing if Hawkeye manages to win him his career back, but he can't bring himself to be interested. He rarely talks to the nurses, certainly doesn't smile or flirt with any of them, and they leave him mercifully alone.

Instead he spends long hours sitting by Maes's bedside, silently willing him to wake up. He needs his friend's advice, needs him to come up with another crazy idea to give him purpose again. But Maes stays stubbornly unconscious, typical really, and Roy is left to handle his shattered life on his own.

Gracia and Elicia visit Maes's room almost every day, of course. It's nice for a while, having company in his mourning. But Gracia never stops giving him sympathetic, almost pitying looks, and Elicia alternates dramatically between begging her dad to wake up and trying to get Roy to talk to her. And he loves Elicia, he really does, she's like a second child to him—but he can't stop comparing her situation to the one Harry could have had. Harry is several years older than her, a little less cheerful and enthusiastic, and he's already lost one set of parents. Would he have handled losing Roy as well as Elicia is handling her unresponsive father?

It's too much. He starts spending time in another silent room down the hall, where Ed lays as unconscious as Maes, and nobody knows why.

Another person he's failed. Sometimes he wishes he'd forced Ed to come with him instead of allowing him to run off to save Al on his own. Maybe if they'd worked together, neither of them would be where they are now. Roy wouldn't have nearly gotten himself killed by Archer, Ed would be—awake. And furious, if anything had happened to Al while he was cleaning up after Roy. But awake, and alive, and even if Al was still trapped in the armor at least he wouldn't be looking so much like a corpse. (Roy had stopped in Al's room once. Only once. Between his wasted appearance and the multiple tubes stuck in his arms, Roy hadn't managed to return.)

Instead he watches over Ed, guarding the boy (no, man—Roy had already acknowledged his maturity) in a way he never had when Ed was awake. But Ed had never _looked_ like he needed protection before, even when he'd been eleven years old and wheelchair-bound. Roy remembers with clarity the fire that had always burned in Ed's eyes, the breathtaking passion Ed had never seemed to tire of. None of it was evident now.

Roy doesn't think he'll ever get used to Ed's stillness, no matter how many hours he spends sitting at his bedside and watching over him. Ed just wasn't made to be still. Even in Roy's office, listening to Roy going over Ed's missions, the boy had always fidgeted, and glared, and made so much noise Roy despaired of him ever being truly silent. He used to wonder, idly, if Ed talked in his sleep too, if Al stayed up all night listening to his brother mumble incomprehensible nonsense over the long hours. (He never managed to entertain those thoughts for long. He'd remember at some point that Al still sounded like a ten year old, and inevitably he'd have nightmares of Harry trapped in the armor instead.)

xxxxx

When he finally gets to return home, mostly healed and almost certain he isn't going to be arrested, things don't get much better. His house looks strange with one eye, and everything has been tidied up while he was convalescing. He feels like he's walked into another person's life, and he doesn't fit into the hole he'd left any more. He wanders his own house aimlessly, like a stranger, picking things up and then putting them down when they fail to interest him. In the daytime, while Harry's at school, he catches himself staring into his empty fireplace or blank television screen, not really thinking about anything, just...existing. And late at night, when the memories are too much for him, he stands in his son's doorway, watching his restless sleep.

Harry himself doesn't know what to do with Roy. He's happy at first, chattering about his time with Madame Christmas and her girls, but as Roy fails to respond, he slowly stops talking. Instead Harry just watches him in the waking hours, silently observing Roy as he floats aimlessly through time.

Though he knows he should do something, Roy can't bring himself to fix Harry's strange behavior. Sometimes he gives his son barely-there smiles, talks a little to convince him that everything is fine, but Harry doesn't seem to buy it. His uncertainty turns into fear, and he shrinks away from Roy every time they cross paths. Roy hurts, down to his very soul, whenever this happens, but the fog in his head prevents him from acting.

Until the day Harry refuses to get out of bed for school.

Something sparks in Roy's chest, a mild panic mixed with his determination to treat his son well, and finally he reacts. He coaxes Harry out of bed and into his uniform, speaks haltingly as he fixes him an easy lunch, and walks him to school. When Harry gets home that night, looking cautiously hopeful, Roy listens attentively to the recounting of his day until Harry is smiling again.

The next day, after successfully seeing his son off to school again, his feet take him the familiar path to the hospital. He makes a stop in Maes's room, smiling weakly as Gracia gives him her now familiar pitying look. Then he drags himself slowly down the hallway, peering hesitantly through the doorway into Ed's room.

Where his heart skips a beat or three as he finds Ed staring straight back at him.

Doing his best to pretend that nothing is wrong, he adjusts his posture to a military straightness, and saunters into the room as if he owns it. Ed, predictably, is unimpressed.

"The fuck happened to you?" he asks, as delightfully rude as ever. "Did anybody tell you how dorky that eyepatch looks?"

A spark of annoyance lights in his chest, and Roy is terribly, _hopelessly_ , grateful for Ed. Ed, who is (almost) always honest, who apologizes for nothing (especially not his attitude), who fights tooth and nail for the sake of any person he cares about. Roy thinks—hopes, really—that at this point that includes himself.

"I'm fairly certain you're the only person who would dare to say such a thing," Roy says, and his voice isn't as airy as he would like, but it's a start. "It's some small consolation that none of the nurses seem to agree with you, though."

Ed looks disgusted. "Might've known you would just be concerned about your next piece of ass," he says in a disgruntled voice. Then he glares at Roy, the fire and intelligence back in his eyes. "Hawkeye says you been acting weird, but she won't tell me what's happened."

Bless Ed and his inability to just ask for the information he wants. Roy considers keeping it from him, just to see the frustration on Ed's face, but eventually says, "I'm being tried for treason."

Ed's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and really telling him the truth may have been worth it just for that expression.

"And you're _letting_ them?" Ed asks in clear disbelief, as if he's naive enough to still believe Roy is untouchable.

"I walked out of the Führer's burning house carrying his dead son, and was confronted by Colonel Archer, who shot me in the eye," Roy says shortly, not caring to go into the details of that terrible evening any further. "Apparently the evidence against me is alarming, if circumstantial. Lieutenant Hawkeye is arguing on my behalf, of course, but I hardly see the point in fighting the inevitable."

"So you're just going to let them declare you guilty and, what, put you up in front of a firing squad?" Roy looks away from Ed's too-honest eyes and shrugs, not able to deny the accusation. "Fuck's sake, Mustang, I can't believe you can't manage to talk your way out of this shit. You can talk your way out of anything!"

Anger flares up in Roy's chest, but dies down almost instantly. He gives Ed a half-hearted shrug. He doesn't want to explain to Ed how incapable he is of fighting, how little of it actually seems important anymore, so he says nothing and stares at Ed's IV. He lifts a hand absently to rub at his left eye, which doesn't seem to be working correctly, and encounters the eyepatch Ed had so carelessly scoffed at. How easy it is to forget that he no longer has that eye, and how bitter the reminder always is.

When the silence eventually drags on too long, Roy mutters, "I don't expect you to understand, Fullmetal." Because the boy has never stopped fighting a day in his life.

Another long silence, this one broken by Ed's irritated sigh. "Of course I fucking understand," he says, voice grimmer than ever, and Roy looks back at him curiously. There's a terrifying darkness to the young man's gaze, as if Roy has opened up an abyss that goes straight down into the Earth's core. He stares back silently, strangely transfixed. "You think I was ready to get up running that night, down an arm and a leg and my brother's entire body? I didn't have a fucking clue what to do after that, automail hadn't even crossed my mind while all I could think about was how I'd ruined Al's life. And then you appeared, and gave me a direction to start in."

Roy blinks rapidly, more surprised than he would admit, at this confession. He himself would have been too ashamed to say anything to the person who'd dragged him out of hell—but Ed is still looking at him, fierce and unashamed and so strong it hurt.

"So I guess it's my turn to do the same for you," Ed continues eventually, determined. "I don't know what the fuck you've been aiming for all these years, Mustang, using every piece of leverage you had to climb ranks, but _something_ was clearly important enough for you to put aside your life for the military. And if it meant anything to you at all, you'll keep fighting for that goal until you can't fight any longer. Right now, you've still got two working legs; get the fuck up and walk forward!"

Roy stares back for a long, long minute, astonished. Then he hears his own voice as if through a fog, feeling like somebody else has control of his vocal cords, "What if I don't know how?"

Ed snorts, turning his head away. "Guess you'd better figure it out quick, then." And try as he might, Roy can't get him to say another word.

xxxxx

Ed continues to refuse to talk to him, but Roy returns to his room every day anyway—he can't think of anything else to do while his guilt is still being debated. It's disconcerting to sit with Ed in silence, no arguing or griping or even being blatantly ignored. Ed clearly listens in the rare instances Roy finds himself talking, but the only sign he cares is found on his expressive face.

His trek to Ed's room one morning is interrupted by a flurry of doctors rushing down the hallway in front of him. It takes him a long minute to realize that they're all converging on Alphonse's room. Fearing for the worst, he quickens his step as much as he dares so he can peer through the window and see what's happening. Thankfully, Al is sitting up, speaking softly with the doctors around him and smiling with the strength Roy always suspected he hid. As if sensing Roy looking at him, Al looks over to him, smiling brightly even as his eyebrows furrow at the sight of the eyepatch covering half of Roy's face.

Roy can't quite dredge up a smile, but he raises a hand in greeting before he turns away.

Settled in the chair by Ed's bed again, he turns to Ed. "Al's awake," he says simply, as if it was unimportant and he was only commenting on the weather.

Ed jerks a little, turning from the view of Central outside his window to look at Roy with bright eyes. His mouth opens as if he's going to speak, but then he seems to remember the vow of silence he'd taken; he snaps his jaws shut again and turns away from Roy with a frown. Roy sighs.

The trend continues for a few days, Ed eyeing him whenever he enters the room as if Roy was some disgusting mess on the bottom of his shoe, then inevitably turning away to glare outside his window again. He's clearly itching to ask Roy something, god only knows what, but he never does. With some effort, Roy keeps his own silence, trying to pretend that it's normal.

Finally, after three more long days, Ed turns to Roy with the harshest scowl in his arsenal.

"How's Al?" he asks grudgingly, and somehow his scowl intensifies when Roy gives him a confused look. "They won't fucking let me out of bed to see him, because they can't figure out what caused my coma. I offered to let them take me down the hall in a fucking wheelchair if that would make them feel better, but they just keep saying that I need to rest. As if I haven't been in bed for a week already."

"You and Al really should rest," Roy says, because he doesn't really know how else to respond. Ed gives him a glare that says exactly what he thinks of this idea, and Roy honestly finds himself feeling sympathetic. It just doesn't seem right for the brothers to be separated after everything they'd been through together, not now that Al is finally back in a human body again. He heaves a little sigh. "I haven't gone to see him myself since he woke up, but I'll see what I can do about getting them to take you down there."

And Ed, the usually irritable little brat, gives him a grateful grin, as bright and blinding as the sun.

xxxxx

The next day finds him sitting in the tribunal again, uncomfortable and faintly irritated as he listens to Hawkeye repeat herself for the umpteenth time. Part of him wishes they'd just get on with it and decide to shoot him already, but a smaller part of him, one that's been buried for weeks, is starting to wonder what he needs to do to convince his superiors that he's innocent. Even if it will be the biggest lie he's ever told. It will take some truly underhanded tricks since he's been silent in his own defense for so long, but Ed was right: he _is_ Roy Mustang. If he can't talk himself out of a hole, he deserves to be buried.

He remains silent through the rest of this session, staring blankly into space as his mind churns, and it comes as a surprise when the day is finally over. Hawkeye gives him a questioning look as she guides him to the door, but he just gives her a mysterious half-smile. He'll let her know as soon as he's made concrete plans, since she's gotten him this far.

He's so lost in his thoughts that he actually jumps when he hears Ed's name mentioned in the room behind him. He pauses in the doorway, one hand still holding the door open, and listens intently to the generals. It seems they believe Fullmetal is too valuable of an asset to be let go; they're arguing about which office should get him instead.

Roy finds himself turning before he can stop himself, and says, "Fullmetal already requested to be released from duty. I was under the impression that this would be granted."

There are one or two sympathetic faces, but most of the generals just glare down at him.

"That is no longer any of your concern, Mr. Mustang," General Hakuro says in his most officious tone. "And I believe you were already dismissed."

Roy inclines his head in reluctant agreement and leaves the room.

He's not even halfway to the hospital when he stops walking, and Hawkeye halts a respectful distance behind him. "Even if Fullmetal is unable to leave the military," he states flatly to his most trusted subordinate, "he will not be going to another command."

When he turns to get Hawkeye's agreement, he can see a grim light of approval in her eyes. He smiles back wryly, but doesn't need to say anything else.

They spend a long few days in his house, hashing out a hopefully foolproof plan, so the next time Roy is called before the tribunal, they're well-prepared with their lines.

He remains standing when he enters the room this time, nodding respectfully at the generals he knows will be on his side. He talks circles around the rest of them, saying he'd been distraught over his failure to save the Führer, that he'd only found out about the plot to kill the man at the last moment and had been forced to set out to his rescue without calling for backup. He'd just wanted to save Selim's body from the flames, he explains, and hadn't had the strength to drag the Führer himself out. Above all else, he informs them that Edward Elric is sixteen years old and underage, that as the boy's superior officer he's the closest thing to a guardian he has. He wants to, but doesn't, inform them that he is the only damn one of them with any right to have a say in Ed's future. He imagines they heard the words anyway.

In the end, he's only reinstated as a colonel, but it's satisfying enough. The generals reluctantly agree to let Ed become a civilian again, Roy tasked with taking the boy's watch and informing him of his new status. He pointedly reacquires and dons the uniform he'd been stripped of, leaving Hawkeye to watch over Harry as he returns to the hospital.

Ed is not in his room, but Roy isn't concerned. He goes straight to Al's room instead, and can't stop his smile when he finds the two boys sitting on Al's bed and talking like they'd been separated for years. Al gives a little gasp when he finally takes notice of Roy leaning in the doorframe, nudging his brother, and then Ed turns to him with a scowl. He looks Roy up and down with an eyebrow raised, then his eyes settle on Roy's command stripes, and a grim little smile steals its way onto his face.

"Finally figured it out, huh?" the brat says a little mockingly, and uncharacteristically ignores the questioning look Al gives him. Roy just inclines his head in faint thanks at Ed's part in his return to command.

"I thought I'd come give you the news myself," he says blandly. "You're now a civilian, Fullmetal. Congratulations."

Ed grants him that absolutely devastating grin again. "I knew you'd get your head out of your ass eventually, Mustang." It fades quickly, and he and Al give each other uncertain frowns.

"Is there something wrong?" Roy prompts, knowing enough to be mildly concerned.

"I don't know where we're going to stay," Al says sadly when it becomes clear that Ed won't explain. "I won't be allowed to travel until I've fully recovered, which could take months, and brother will be kicked out of the dorms if he's out of the military. We can't impose on Mrs. Hughes so much when Mr. Hughes is still in a coma…."

Roy wonders to himself if these kids will _ever_ catch a break, or if maybe they'd been serial killers in a past life and this was their atonement. He looks between the two despondent faces, frowning himself, and sighs uneasily. He's going to regret this; he can feel it in his bones.

"I have a spare bedroom that you'd be welcome to until you can travel again," he says, with less reluctance than he'd expected to feel. He kind of owes Ed for giving him a reason to move again, and the bedroom is all he can offer.

He doesn't expect them to take him up on it, though, fiercely independent as they both are. But they spend a long, long minute staring at each other, until finally Ed huffs noisily and turns his head away. The older brother crosses his arms and glares angrily at the wall, but Al gives Roy a faint smile.

"We really appreciate it, Colonel," he says politely. Roy has the strangest premonition of doom.

xxxxx

It's probably a terrible idea, but for his own amusement he doesn't tell Ed that he has a son. Harry knows enough to expect _somebody_ coming to live with them, but Roy never says who it is even though Harry asks him at least three times a day.

He can't help smiling when he pulls into his driveway nearly a week after offering his spare bedroom, and it only widens when he notices Ed is giving him a suspicious look for it. It dims a little when they get out of the car and Roy is reminded of just how little the Elrics own; Ed only has one suitcase with him, and though Roy is certain it's been magically expanded, it hardly seems like enough luggage to be moving one's entire life in.

Shaking the mood off, he leads Ed to his front door, which creaks a little as he opens it—he'll have to oil the hinges later—and flips on the hallway light as they enter.

"Take off your shoes, please," he says to Ed, kicking off his own boots into a messy pile on the mat set aside for that purpose. Then he takes a few steps further into the house and calls, "Harry, I'm home!"

"What—" Ed starts, but cuts off as they hear what sounds like a small stampede above them. Harry appears at the top of the stairway a second later, bounces down the stairs in a way Roy has always thought looked painful, and throws himself at Roy. Roy catches him easily—he's had a _lot_ of practice—and hugs him tightly.

"Hi, Daddy!" Harry says, a little too loudly.

"What the _fuck_ , Mustang," Ed says flatly behind him.

Harry gasps dramatically and slaps his hands over his own mouth. Barely holding in his laughter, Roy turns to Ed and gives him a disapproving frown.

"Watch your language around my son, Fullmetal," he says.

"You—your—since when the fu— _heck_ do you have a _son_?" Ed stutters, his voice rising on each word until he's nearly shouting the last. Roy can't hold back an answering smirk, which causes Ed to make an entertaining little "aaargh" noise as he runs a hand down his face. If there are any consequences to not informing Ed about his son, Roy muses, satisfied, this reaction entirely makes up for it. It's a memory he'll hold close to his heart until he dies.

"I adopted Harry six years ago," Roy answers, "which is an entertaining enough story on its own, but that can wait. Fullmetal, this—" he jiggles Harry in his arms a little, making him giggle "—is my son Harry Potter. Harry, this is Edward Elric."

" _Really?_ " Harry asks excitedly, leaning towards Ed to get a better look at him. "He's coming to live with us?"

"For a little while, at least," Roy allows. Harry looks back at him, a concerned look on his face.

"But, dad, you complain about him _all the time_ ," he says, "what if he blows up the house?"

Roy bites his lip to keep his laughter in, while Ed, baring his teeth, points his finger in Harry's face. "You," he says, not anywhere near as threateningly as he would to an adult, "are going to be just as much a pain in the ass—"

"Fullmetal," Roy interrupts sharply, "language!"

" _Excuse me_ for being surprised," Ed replies, gritting his teeth. "And stop fuck—damn— _dangit._ Stop calling me Fullmetal!'

"That attached to being a civilian already?" Roy asks dryly. Ed glares at him. "Edward, then. Or would you prefer Ed?"

"Just—Ed is fine, I guess," Ed mutters haltingly, looking faintly embarrassed.

"Well, let's get you settled in," Roy says. "Harry, can you show Ed the spare room while I get dinner started?"

"Yup!" Harry replies brightly, wriggling until Roy puts him on the ground. He takes Ed's right hand without flinching, looking up at him with big, adoring eyes, and starts chattering away. Ed looks surprised at first, squeezing Harry's hand a little, then his eyes warm up and he listens with a serious look on his face. "Your room is upstairs next to mine and daddy's is around the staircase there and…"

Roy shakes his head as he listens to Harry's voice trailing off, then turns to the kitchen. He throws his uniform jacket over the back of his chair with a sigh of relief, and flicks the radio on to a station that plays old jazz music. Humming along absentmindedly, he throws together a simple meal—no point in trying to impress Ed, of all people, with his culinary skills—and sets the table. Usually he has Harry put the table together, but Roy knows he'll be distracted by Ed for the rest of the night.

When dinner is nearly finished, he calls Harry back downstairs. A few minutes later, he can hear Ed's voice as they come toward the kitchen—Ed seems to be telling Harry about a doll he once made for his friend Winry—and Roy can't keep himself from grinning when he sees that Harry is still clinging to Ed's hand. Ed looks up at him with a wry smile.

"Okay," he says reluctantly, as if he's admitting to something terrible, "your kid's cute, at least. More than I can say for you."

"Thank you, Ed," Roy says dryly. "Your opinion of me has been noted and discarded."

Ed snorts, but settles himself in a chair at Harry's insistence. Harry is talking again, this time about the many and varied toys Roy has alchemically fixed for him over the years, and Roy can't stop himself from dropping a kiss on his head as he serves out the food. Ed smirks at him a little mockingly, but Roy doesn't mind; he's not ashamed of the way he acts towards his only son.

Roy assumed that first night was going to be something of a fluke, everyone on their best behavior while they got used to each other, but Ed settles into his life surprisingly well. Lacking anything else to do, Ed takes to prowling around the house and fixing all of the tiny irritants that Roy has never got around to; within a week, the front door has stopped creaking, the draft in his dining room has been plugged up, and a dripping tap in the upstairs bathroom that Roy had honestly forgotten about have all been resolved. More notably, Roy's small library in the den has been raided multiple times. Every so often, Roy will go to flip through a book in his rare downtime, only to find that the one he wants is missing. Usually he finds them in Ed's room, under a pile of notes Roy carefully doesn't read, but sometimes he finds them in stranger places—tucked in between cushions on the couch, underneath the kitchen table, and, on one memorable occasion, tucked neatly away next to a half-eaten bowl of pudding in the fridge. He expects to find this irritating, but mostly he's amused, and considering starting a journal of weird shit Ed does when he's reading.

And Harry just _adores_ Ed. On the weekends, when everyone's usually relaxing in the house, Harry has a tendency to follow him around as if he expects Ed to do tricks for him. Ed tolerates it well enough, is uncharacteristically patient and kind to the young boy, and Roy finds himself growing almost frighteningly fond of him.

Which probably explains why he doesn't have a panic attack the night he finds himself kissing a teenager on his couch.

It starts innocently enough. Roy, delighted to have somebody to discuss alchemy with, takes to talking to Ed after dinner whenever both of them happen to be reading the same book (which is more often than not). Ed is fascinating to talk to, his mind diamond-sharp and his knowledge of all types of alchemy truly astonishing. The topic makes him seem older, puts a serious look on his face and a light in his eyes that Roy can't look away from, and it's all too easy to forget that Ed is sixteen years old with a life that seems to consist of him falling from one disaster into another. Roy knows he's traumatized, has to be with everything that's happened to him—but, in all fairness, Roy isn't much better off himself.

Roy eventually manages to drag his own lips away from Ed's, but can't seem to let go of him. On his part, Ed stares up at him with wondering eyes, hands fisted tightly in the front of Roy's shirt, and licks his swollen lips as if he can taste Roy on them still. He should look even younger now, with the surprise making his eyes wide and rounded, but there's a different kind of fire in his eyes now—one that Roy finds, in a word, breathtaking.

"Okay?" he asks breathlessly, because he has to make sure this is something Ed actually wants.

"Yeah," Ed says, voice hoarse. "Yeah, it's—" and he pulls Roy down into another kiss, eager and unpracticed, so Roy never does get to find out what the rest of that sentence was supposed to be.

It becomes almost ritual for them; every night, after Harry has gone to bed, Roy finds himself tangled on the couch with a teenager fourteen years his junior. He should probably feel some guilt over it, but Roy has been having trouble thinking of Ed as a child since they parted on that sidewalk. And Ed _is_ eager, endlessly curious and unashamed with it, putting his hands in places Roy knows he hadn't had the bravery to touch at his age. Roy can't keep himself from touching back, marveling at Ed's musculature and cupping an absolutely _perfect_ ass that he would be envious of if he didn't admire it so much.

On the inevitable night that clothes actually start coming off, he pulls Ed into his bedroom and shuts the door firmly behind them—the last thing he needs is to traumatize Harry with a scene like this. A careless snap of his fingers starts up the fire that Roy had bought this house for—which somehow makes Ed even _more_ eager, good lord—and then they fall unceremoniously into the bed. Roy's shirt is already gone, but when he starts pulling at Ed's clothes, the younger man jerks in surprise and pulls back suddenly, frowning uncertainly and not meeting Roy's eyes.

Roy pulls back a little himself, concerned and confused, because what the hell does Edward Elric have to be embarrassed about? And then, "Oh," he says out loud, "the automail."

Ed's face turns a rather unflattering shade of red, and he looks up at Roy with defensive anger. Because, of course, anger is Ed's response to everything that upsets him.

"I'm not bothered by scars, Ed," he says softly, trying not to sound too reassuring in case Ed thinks he's being patronizing. "Or by your prosthetics. I already know what to expect."

Ed bites his lip and squirms a little bit, not looking him in the eyes, and though it's a different situation entirely, Roy _knows_ that reaction. He's seen it a hundred times over the expanse of his desk, when Ed came back from a mission with a new scar or wound and tried to hide it from his superior officer. Roy pulls back a little further, narrows his eyes at his would-be lover, and asks, "What haven't you told me?"

"In my defense," Ed says reluctantly, gaze settled on something over Roy's shoulder, "it wasn't really during a mission and I was never actually debriefed on what happened when I got Al's body back."

"Edward," Roy says in his best warning tone, because he knows if he doesn't Ed will try to get around actually telling him what happened.

"I was fighting Envy," Ed mutters reluctantly. "And I got a little—a little impaled."

If ever asked, Roy would swear his heart actually stopped. He finds himself staring at Ed, mouth dropped open a little in shock, because of all the things he actually expected—another serial killer, a townsman with a grudge against the military, hell, a particularly nasty chimera—this doesn't even make the list.

"Impaled," Roy eventually says in a flat tone. Ed winces.

"I got better?" he tries, then at the look in Roy's eye, he adds, "I may have used alchemy to fix it. And, uh, died a little bit?"

When Roy inevitably dies of a heart attack before he's forty, he's going to make sure somebody cites Ed as the cause of death.

"You—" he tries to say, swallows painfully even though his mouth is dry, "You—absolute idiot—how do you die _a little bit_?"

Ed groans, covers his eyes with his arms, and asks dully, "Have you ever heard of the Gate?"

The story that Roy eventually drags out of him is indescribably horrifying and, as a matter of course, completely kills the mood. Roy wishes he could be angry about it, but it isn't Ed that he feels a growing urge to burn to a crisp.

"I'd might as well go back to my room," Ed mutters once he's done, looking ancient and fragile in a way Roy hadn't known he was capable of.

Roy surprises himself by reaching out to tug Ed back into bed, pulling him close and saying, "Stay." Ed gawks at him, clearly disbelieving, so he pulls him into a long, slow kiss. It isn't meant to get the night started again, and it doesn't. But Ed melts into the kiss like he's been waiting for it his entire life, and spends the night curled up in Roy's arms.

By the time Al is allowed to leave the hospital, Ed has found a seemingly permanent home in Roy's bed. Al, of course, is impossible to hide anything from, and gives Roy and Ed knowing looks the entire drive home. Ed stares out of the window, growing redder and redder in embarrassment, and Roy starts to wonder if maybe he should feel guilty, but he can't even bring himself to pretend to be ashamed. He meets Al's eyes in the rearview mirror and smirks, which has the added benefit of making Ed even more embarrassed.

"You're such a fucking pervert," Ed snarls, and Roy's sure the only reason he's not being smacked is that he's driving. "Stop fucking smirking at my little brother, I swear I won't even be able to leave the two of you alone in the same room—"

"Don't worry, brother," Al says in an innocent voice, "You can keep the Colonel for yourself; I'm not even remotely interested."

Ed makes a truly awful noise of outrage, turning an absolutely fascinating shade of purple. Roy wants to be insulted, he really does, but he's too busy being amused, and a little bit relieved. He has no doubts that if Al had any reservations about their relationship, Ed would have dropped him in an instant. That's the last thing Roy wants.

He suddenly understands that premonition of doom he'd had all those weeks ago.

xxxxx

Al settles into the household as smoothly as Ed did. Harry is unsurprisingly as enthralled by him as he was by his older brother, and Roy is more than pleased to discover that Al enjoys both cooking _and_ cleaning. Roy isn't exactly a neat freak himself, but Ed's absentmindedness has a tendency to leave every room a mess behind him, and Roy has a lot of trouble trying to keep up with it all even after he's convinced Ed to start straightening up the house while Roy was at work. (Ed, it turns out, doesn't actually have anything against cleaning, per se. The trick is actually getting him to remember to do it. And, as Roy discovers early on in their relationship, nagging will only make things worse—then he'll leave a mess on purpose, because he's a spiteful little brat.)

Strangely, the longer the Elric brothers stay with him, the more Roy finds his mood improving. He's not exactly as cheerful as he'd been before killing Pride, has a lot more difficulty holding up the more ridiculous aspects of his persona, but the listlessness of those earliest weeks has almost entirely faded. He still finds himself staring into space at times, but now he has Ed to disrupt his thoughts in increasingly pleasant ways.

Of course, Roy is at work the day Maes wakes up. He's leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling and quietly bemoan the lack of Ed to stare at (sometimes he worries he's getting a fixation), when the phone on his desk rings. Roy stares at it for a long moment, surprised; his phone almost never rings without Hawkeye warning him that she was putting a call through.

When he does finally pick it up, he almost tips his chair over at the sound of Gracia's tearful voice. For a second he expects the worst, that Maes has quietly passed away without warning, but then the woman's actual words slip through the screaming panic in his head.

"I'll bring the Elrics and Harry over," Roy says instantly, using his most soothing voice as he glances at the clock. It's late enough in the afternoon that everyone should be home, so when he hangs up he doesn't hesitate to grab his coat and walk out of his office. All of his men turn to face him at once, Hawkeye standing from her seat with a disapproving frown on her face, but he holds up a hand to halt her.

"Maes is awake," he says softly, and the serious looks fade into surprise a moment before Havoc and Breda let out cheers. Roy finds himself grinning as well, and one look at Hawkeye's face lets him know that he won't actually be in trouble for leaving work early this time. "I'm taking the boys up to the hospital tonight; he wants to see us all. Hawkeye—"

"I'll make your excuses, sir," the woman says, sitting back down and already pulling the phone towards her. Roy would be seriously lost without her.

"And could you call Ed and warn them I'm on my way?" he asks, already halfway out the door by the time she gives him an affirmative answer.

He makes it home in record time, at least partly due to a judicial use of illegal magic, and finds his household already outside waiting for him. Ed and Al are wearing identically brilliant grins, and Harry climbs into the car without being told.

"Is Uncle Maes really awake?" Harry asks excitedly, leaning forward into the front seat. Roy frowns, but it's Ed that pushes him back and tells him to put on his seatbelt or they won't be going anywhere. Harry pouts, but obligingly buckles himself in. "Well? Is he?"

"Yes, he is," Roy says, giving Ed a grateful smile. "And he asked to see you specifically, or so Gracia tells me."

Harry is bursting with excitement, fidgeting through the short ride to the hospital and kicking the back of Roy's seat. Roy lets him get away with it this once; he can hardly blame his son for his restlessness when he feels the same way himself.

The four of them make quite the spectacle entering the hospital, Harry all but hanging off Roy and Ed's hands, but the nurses clearly remember them. The lady at the desk just smiles at him and prepares visitor's badges for them without even asking their names, which is probably a bad sign for how much time all of them have spent in the hospital recently. At Maes's room, Roy stops to knock despite Harry bouncing next to him, and it's a long second before Gracia is opening the door to them.

"Oh, Roy!" Gracia says ecstatically, throwing her arms around him. Roy lets go of Harry's hand, knowing he can trust Ed to watch out for him, and wraps the woman in his arms. She pulls away quickly, wiping tears from her eyes. "I can't believe he's finally awake! They were saying we should have let him go ages ago, but I couldn't—"

"I know," Roy says warmly. "Is he awake? I think Harry may well vibrate into the next dimension if he doesn't get to see his uncle soon."

Gracia's laugh is a little watery, but she waves them into the room without hesitation.

Hughes doesn't look well. Roy doesn't know what he was expecting a man fresh out of a months-long coma to look like, but the exhaustion evident on his best friend's face dismays him. Worse is the obvious weakness; Gracia has to help him drink from a glass of water, and Roy's pretty sure the only things holding him up right now are the raised bed and sheer stubbornness.

But the sharp intelligence in his eyes hasn't faded any, and he looks at the Elric brothers with eyebrows raised.

"Uncle Maes!" Harry says, bouncing over to the bed. He's surprisingly careful when he wraps his arms around Maes's torso, and Maes finally tears his eyes from the brothers to smile down at him instead. He weakly ruffles Harry's hair.

"Have you been looking after your dad for me, Harry?" he asks, giving Roy a teasing smile.

"Uh-huh!" Harry replies, nodding enthusiastically. "And Ed and Al helped! Did you know they're living with us, did Aunt Gracia tell you?"

"No, that seems to have slipped her mind," Maes grins, looking up at the Elrics. His gaze lingers on Al for a long moment before he turns his attention to Ed. "And nobody's died yet?"

Ed and Roy share a wry look before Ed says, "Nah, he's not so bad after a while."

Maes's eyebrows practically disappear into his hair, and he gives Roy a sharp look that doesn't bode well for Roy's health. Roy grins back at him to hide his nervousness.

"Say, you wouldn't mind if I spoke to Roy alone for a minute, would you?" Maes asks, and though his voice is perfectly innocuous, Roy's heart sinks a little. How in the world did Maes always see right through him? Ed shoots Roy a worried look, which certainly isn't going to help with Maes's deduction, but quietly leaves the room with everyone else.

Maes watches them leave, observing Ed the entire time, and there's a long silence after the door closes.

"What the fuck are you doing, Roy?" he states more than asks, finally turning back to Roy with cold eyes. If Roy hadn't already known that Maes was angry, the cursing would have clued him in instantly.

"I think, I think maybe that question should be more of a _who_ —" Roy starts, his voice as light as he can make it, but stops when Maes's eyes narrow further.

"How old is he now, Roy?" Maes snaps. "Sixteen? God, you didn't even have sex with sixteen year olds when _you_ were sixteen—"

"Maes," Roy interrupts quietly, but it doesn't help.

"So help me, Roy, if I find out you've _coerced_ him, after everything Ed's been through—"

"I haven't," Roy says quietly, hurt by the accusation, and something in his voice must've finally gotten through to Maes, because he stops ranting and stares at him, waiting for an explanation. "God, Maes, is that what you really think of me? That I'd go so low as to manipulate a traumatized sixteen year old into _sex_?"

Maes sighs heavily, closing his eyes and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It takes a long minute before he speaks again.

"No," he finally says softly. "No, I'm sorry, but Roy, you _have_ to know what it looks like from someone else's point of view! Ed's fourteen years younger than you, has been under your command for years, and it's so easy to forget just how capable he is." He smiles wryly up at Roy, and adds, "I imagine he'd have made you incapable of having sex ever again if it wasn't something he really wanted."

Roy shudders dramatically. "Which is part of why I made damn sure it was beforehand."

"Ah, the wrath of Edward Elric," Maes said dryly. "I take it Al actually approves?"

"Well, he certainly doesn't _dis_ approve. He told Ed he could keep me."

"Hm, no, I can't see you being Al's type at all. He's far too sensible." Maes grins at him, briefly, then turns serious again. "But, Roy, I have to ask. How serious are you about this relationship with Ed? You know how he throws himself whole-heartedly into everything he does, he hardly even seems aware that he can be hurt…."

Roy can feel his face freeze, and he puts his arms behind his back to hide his discomfort. Staring at a spot on the wall above Maes's head, he says, "I'd really rather not answer that, Maes."

"Oh," Maes breathes, that one word full of wonder and shock. Roy glances back down at his face uncertainly, and is surprised himself to find his friend grinning back at him.

xxxxx

The next year passes by faster than Roy would expect. He's surprised anew every day he wakes up to find Ed curled up against him, and indescribably grateful for his presence. They've been keeping their relationship a secret, which is harder than it should with the busybodies Roy has filled his life with. Hawkeye is the only other one who manages to figure it out, and though she stared at Roy with some consternation for a few weeks after, she hasn't said anything negative as of yet.

Better still, there have been some discussions among the upper brass of having Roy promoted to Brigadier General soon. Roy knows from experience that this is still likely to be delayed another year—possibly longer, considering how many people still rightfully believe he killed Führer Bradley—but he can't find it in himself to mind the wait.

In fact, everything in his life has been going so well, he finds himself waiting for some disaster or another to strike. He keeps an extra-paranoid eye on the military, fully expecting a war to break out or for some of Bradley's less-palatable policies to be restarted, so when the issue is far more personal he's quite surprised.

He'd known, of course, that Al had been planning on starting up college at Central University soon, had in fact put in references for him; likewise, he'd actually helped Ed gain a teaching position at the same university by supporting him while he obtained a Mastery in Potions and a Doctorate in Physics in an obscenely short time. If he thinks about it logically, he should have expected that at least Al would want to go live in the dormitories; he's had this idea of living like a normal teenager for ages, and Ed hadn't been able to break him out of it.

But somehow he hadn't expected Ed to want to move out as well.

"Oh, Colonel!" Al gasps when he notices Roy standing frozen in the doorway, the look of shock and dismay on his face surely mirroring Roy's own. Ed spins around himself, scowling, but Roy has learned to read him and he can tell it's not him Ed's mad at.

"You're leaving?" Roy asks blankly. He's surprised to find that he really doesn't want either one of them to move out. He's grown accustomed to their companionship, and had actually started getting comfortable with the idea of having a real family. He's certainly not prepared to live alone with Harry again. He wonders if he ever will be.

"I'll—I'll leave you two to talk," Al says nervously, looking between Roy and Ed as he hastily slides around Roy and leaves the den. The door closes with a thud behind him, and Roy can hear him talking to Harry and pulling him away as well, but he can't take his eyes off Ed.

"Well, we were talking about it," Ed says, nervously stepping up to Roy and fisting a hand in the front of his shirt. Roy's arms move automatically around Ed, pulling him in close, and Ed's breath hitches the same way it has every time he's ever done that. "It's just, we're both going to be at Central all the time, y'know, and it's clear across town, so we thought it might be easier to maybe get an apartment over there for just the two of us. Rent's pretty cheap because so many students live down there and—you think it's a bad idea, don't you?"

"It's not a bad idea," Roy manages to say in a steady voice. "I just don't want you to go."

Ed ducks his head and looks up at Roy from behind his eyelashes, biting his lip nervously. Roy simply adores that expression on Ed, not that he gets to see it often, and the idea of losing it, of losing _him_ — "Al thinks we're taking advantage of you. Your hospitality. I mean, I could still come over if you want? It's not like either of us would have classes on the weekends, and Al'll probably want some time to himself too, and—I wouldn't be _leaving_ leaving, okay? Just—moving."

"Stay," Roy says, voice not quite pleading. When Ed hesitates again, Roy throws caution to the wind entirely and adds, "I love you."

"What?" Ed asks, voice high in surprise. His grip on Roy's shirt tightens uncomfortably. "Say that again."

Smiling a little helplessly, Roy cups Ed's face and murmurs "I love you" again, a second before pulling him into a kiss. Ed makes a little surprised noise into it, but then wraps his right arm around Roy's neck and pushes his body up against Roy's as if he's trying to get even closer to him. Roy backs him into the couch and pours everything he has into the kiss, hoping that if Ed doesn't believe his words he'll at least believe _that_.

"You stupid fuck," Ed gasps when they finally manage to separate for air, and Roy grins because it's not the worst thing Ed has called him by far. "How long have you—no, don't answer that, I don't care right now. I love you too, you _moron_ , I've loved you for—gees. I don't even know. We'll stay. I'll stay."

Roy can't stop himself from laughing out of sheer joy, and Ed hits him for it—but then they're kissing again, like their lives depend on it, and Roy doesn't think he's ever been happier in his life.

And the best part of it all is that Ed never does choose to leave.

xxxxx

 **OMAKE,** because I needed to torture Havoc

 _The next morning…_

Havoc yawns as he enters the office, rubbing at the back of his head blearily and automatically stumbling over to the coffee pot. It's already full, thank god, so he pours himself a cup of sludge, then slumps into his chair. He takes a long moment to just inhale the fumes, hoping that the caffeine will work before he even ingests any.

"'Morning," Breda says as he takes his seat at the desk next to Havoc's, his own cup of coffee held tightly in one fist.

"'Mornin'," Havoc responds unhappily, and takes a reluctant sip of the coffee. Ugh. Some days he wonders if the caffeine fix is a good enough reason to make himself suffer through this taste.

Sadly, the answer is always a resounding 'yes'.

Just as the caffeine hits, the door opens and the colonel saunters into the room. Havoc sighs feelingly, but stands and salutes automatically. A second later, his eyebrows rise as he catches the weird smile on Mustang's face. It's not as smug as usual, certainly not smug enough to say he'd had a fantastic night, but something about it makes Havoc's heart sink anyway.

He glances over at Breda to see if the other man has noticed it, and sighs again at the smirk on his friend's face.

"Oh, Lieutenant, could you make a reservation for two for dinner tonight?" Mustang asks casually, almost off-hand as if he'd just remembered he'd wanted her to do that. Havoc nearly snorts; like the chief would ever forget to find an appropriate date venue. "Perhaps at the Dynasty. It's not too upscale, and really you can never go wrong with Xingese, can you?"

"If you say so, sir," Hawkeye replies blandly, but the tiny almost-smile playing about her lips says she's glad to see Mustang going out again.

Mustang snorts, but doesn't otherwise dignify her with a response. Then, with one last weird smile at the office in general, he disappears into the inner office to start his day.

Havoc waits until the door closes behind his boss to let out the groan that's been building since the colonel walked in. Great. And he'd just been starting to think he'd finally get to keep a girlfriend, too.

* * *

A/N: So, for everyone who wanted the story of Ed and Roy getting together (and Ed meeting Harry, because aww), here it is. I'm hoping more than believing that my treatment of Roy's depression in the beginning of the story was done respectfully. He's in a bad place when he wakes up after killing Bradley, but he's lucky in a way—his depression is only circumstantial. At first he's just pretending to be over it, so he can do right by Harry and Ed, but by the end of the story I like to think he's at least doing better.

I'm a little iffy about Hughes's reaction to finding out Roy and Ed are together, not to mention Hawkeye's complete _non_ -reaction (c'mon, like she doesn't know), but…eh. I feel like Roy's team and friends know both him and Ed well enough to roll with it. Just with slight hiccups on the way.


	8. Just Cat Things 2: Snape

A/N: I wasn't planning on posting this yet, but then I figured I'd might as well get it out before Winter Storm Jonas shows up, knocks out my power, and ruins my life. I've edited it, so any remaining typos can be blamed on the insomnia that caused me to write this.

This one is set more or less after chapter two of _The Children of Snakes_.

Warnings: Noooone.

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, and probably wouldn't know what to do with the if I did.

Summary: Minerva McGonagall is a former Auror, a stern professor, and a formidable witch. It just so happens that sometimes she's also a cat.

* * *

 _Cat Things 2: Snape_

Severus couldn't help but sigh in relief as he finally let himself into his rooms at the end of the first full day of the semester. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the little beasts tried to make his life difficult on purpose. This year they'd all been clearly distracted by some new rumor about him—not the one of him being a vampire, he was sure, because _this_ rumor actually had quite a few of them giggling at him when they thought he wasn't paying attention! It was just a shame that Minerva had so recently banned him from punishing students for ridiculous things, because he was just itching to give someone a detention right now.

Throwing his notes onto the table, he allowed himself to collapse rather dramatically onto his couch, face shoved into the cushions and legs over the arm. It was a very comfortable couch, really, he probably should have thanked Albus for talking him into buying it. It was an excellent place to sleep. Not as nice as his bed, but who would know but him?

"Meowww."

His eyes popped open. He turned his head to the side very slowly and, face still half shoved into the cushion, glared at the tabby cat that had crawled out from under his table.

"How," he asked it in his most dire voice, because it made him feel better even if it never worked, "do you consistently manage to enter my rooms? I warded them myself. I shouldn't even have _mice_."

"Mreow," the tabby replied shortly, the smug look on her face an eerie replica of the one she wore when human. Then she leapt lightly onto Severus's back and laid there.

"For Merlin's sake, Minerva," Severus sighed, long-suffering. "How was I ever stupid enough to mistake you for a dignified human being?"

The cat replied by calmly—and happily, judging by the purring—digging all of her claws into Severus's shoulder blade, and proceeded to knead so hard he was sure to have bloody claw marks in the morning. Severus resolutely did not make the pathetic whimpering noise he wanted to, and instead reached across his back and tried to remove the cat by the scruff. Her claws dug in, and she gave a tiny little growl. There was a brief struggle. Severus was left remarkably unscathed, while the cat darted back under his table only to turn around and hiss at him.

"Don't give me that," Severus snapped, kicking towards her hiding place. The cat knew full well that he would never actually kick her (because he wanted to live), and didn't even flinch. "I have no sympathy for a witch who won't even deliver her messages in a form that can be understood. _Especially_ when they try to claw me to death in the process!"

The cat growled, rather a bit louder than before.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. He was not going to admit he'd exaggerated and apologize, if that's what the blasted woman was waiting for. He had more dignity than to have that conversation with a _cat_.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Severus scowled at her, and the cat stared unblinkingly back. Every so often there was a soft "thump" as she hit her tail up against the table leg. Severus tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He wasn't going to fall asleep with another person in his room, he just wasn't, but surely it wouldn't hurt to relax a little...

There was a sudden scrabbling noise, but before Severus could jump up in alarm, twelve pounds of tabby landed in his lap, claws splayed and barely missing a certain sensitive area. He couldn't hold back his own high-pitched noise of pain, starting to curl in on himself in automatic self-defense. The cat put her paws on his chest and leaned up to lick his cheek once, purring.

"I am going to hex your fur to match Albus's next robe!" he snarled, reaching for his wand, but the cat was already gone again, hiding underneath the chair this time. He could hear her purring contently. He eyed the glow of her eyes for a long moment, considering actually following through with his threat, but sat back with a sigh. It would be satisfying for a time, but he knew from experience that the Deputy Headmistress would get him back for it. With interest, and possibly dead bugs in his pillow.

Deciding he'd had enough of the infernal woman for the night, he got up from the couch and decided to start getting ready for bed. That was when he noticed the folded up bit of parchment flutter to the floor. He squinted at it suspiciously; was this a note she had confiscated from one of her students earlier in the day?

"Is this what you actually came here for?" he asked aloud.

"Mewww," the cat replied, which sounded enough like an affirmative that he bent over and picked the paper up. He unfolded it neatly, and quickly read the short missive. To his horror, he could feel a blush spread rapidly across his face. Only Minerva McGonagall could still find a way to make him blush like a schoolboy.

"Is this some sort of joke?" he snapped. The cat's purr raised in volume. "Of all the—the boy is _married_ , Minerva! Even if I was interested—and I most certainly am not—I would never even presume to—"

The cat crawled out from under the chair and trotted daintily over to him, rubbing up against his legs. The look on her face was distinctly smug again, and Severus glowered down into it.

"Yes, yes, 'the lady doth protest too much'," he quoted sarcastically, a sneer curling his lip. "As if you even believe this rubbish yourself. Get out of my rooms, Minerva. I had been planning to get some sleep tonight."

The cat blinked up at him for another long moment, then rubbed her face against his leg one last time before disappearing. He didn't actually see her leaving the room, but he was certain she was gone. He'd have to recheck his wards again. How did that damn woman always manage to get past them?

Shaking his head, he strode over to his fireplace and tossed the stolen note into the fire the house elves always kept burning for him. Honestly, the things the students gossiped about. Him, dating Edward? As brilliant as the boy was, and it had only taken Severus a bare moment of conversation to realize what an intellect was hiding behind the cursing and sarcasm, he had no interest in a relationship. Why was it so difficult to believe that they were just friends?

Though, and he couldn't stop the smirk that leapt to his face, as far as rumors about him went, this one wasn't so bad. If anything, it was rather flattering. He wasn't blind, after all, and Edward would have been quite the catch if he'd been so inclined. Maybe he'd let this one slide.

He just hoped Edward's husband never heard about it.

* * *

A/N: It's entirely possible the next one will be with Harry (from McGonagall's POV), but I might skip that and move on to Ed.


	9. Just Cat Things 3: Harry

A/N: I'll be real; I wrote this little thing entirely because I wanted to get in Cat!McGonagall's head. It's not as cute and funny as the first two fics, considering the contents, but it was a nice little exercise.

This is set during chapter six of _The Children of Snakes_.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse and the such.

Disclaimer: Not gonna lie, I kind of wish I owned cat!McGonagall. Alas! It was never meant to be.

Summary: Minerva McGonagall is a former Auror, a stern professor, and a formidable witch. It just so happens that sometimes she's also a cat.

* * *

 _Just Cat Things 3: Harry_

One of Minerva's favorite things about being a cat Animagus was the ease with which she could comfort young students who didn't know who she was. It was the reason she didn't reveal her form to any student below third year: eleven year olds away from home for the first time tended to get homesick easily, and there were plenty of things they would tell a cat that they wouldn't tell an adult. A small number of students from all of the Houses had revealed terrible home lives or bad experiences with their fellow students, and she never failed to follow up on the information she received.

So when she saw Severus leading the Weasley twins to his rooms along with a very upset Potter, it was only second nature to follow. The man's door closed in her face before she could get in, but nothing could keep a cat out of where it wanted to be (at least not in Hogwarts—the castle had a certain fondness for felines). She crept into the sitting room through a convenient (and new) cat door, then sidled along the edges of the room until she was able to dart under the couch without Severus seeing her.

She settled down just in time to catch Potter's parents rotating into view. Fighting back the curiosity about just how he'd contacted Amestris from his fireplace (she'd worm the information out of him later), she listened into the short conversation with approval.

It still amazed her sometimes how competent he was with traumatized children, such a distinct opposition to his normal demeanor that it was like watching an entirely different man. Then again, with a past like his, she supposed he would have found it necessary to learn what to do with them. Even if, as she suspected, he was never quite emotionally prepared to deal with what he learned.

She waited a few minutes after Severus left before she moved, watching the way Potter shied away from even the most incidental of touches from his friends, and then she crawled out from under the couch and jumped neatly into his lap. Potter looked far more startled by her appearance than he should have been, so she finally took matters into her own paws and demanded that the boy pet her.

"I didn't know Professor Snape had a cat," Malfoy said from behind her, confused, but when one of the Weasley twins tried to out her as their professor she glared at the boy. It was hard to tell which one was which even as a cat, so she mentally labeled him Gargoyle One before turning her attention back to Potter. Why had he stopped petting her?

He resumed before long, commenting fondly on the markings that identified her particular form, and she made herself comfortable. Potter clearly wasn't going to say anything else with other people in the room, but she could at least do her best to comfort him.

It took several hours for anything else of interest to occur. Potter petted her diligently, occasionally tracing obscure alchemical symbols into her fur, and she was starting to doze off when the door flew open and Severus swept in.

"I _am_ going to figure out how to keep you out," Severus snarled at her, the bitter old bat, so she gave him a smug look and increased the volume of her purring.

Then Potter's parents were rushing over to him, the general dropping to his knees with more calm than she had expected. She didn't get a chance to consider what that meant, though, as Potter upended her a moment later when he caught sight of the headmaster—and Lockhart. It wasn't difficult to figure out what happened, so even though most of the company knew who she was, she jumped up on the arm of the couch in front of Gargoyle One and _hissed_. (She was almost certain she heard Gargoyle Two mutter "Get him, McGoogles!") She'd never liked Lockhart much to begin with, and she'd wanted to get her claws in him from day one. If she hadn't been surrounded by colleagues and students at this moment, she'd already be digging into the area that would hurt him the worst.

Fortunately, Elric didn't seem to have the restraint she possessed. She settled herself back into Potter's side and purred in satisfaction when Lockhart hit the floor. She had rather mixed feelings when he threatened Albus next—the headmaster was an old and dear friend, regardless of the terrible decisions he'd been making lately—but didn't move from her spot. She sincerely doubted the boy had been serious when he'd asked about killing them, and even if he had been, well, Albus was a big boy. He could protect himself.

The excitement died down soon after that. While Albus called in Aurors (and Poppy) to take care of Lockhart, she gave Potter a final little goodbye nudge and leapt gracefully off the seat. Elric gave her a startled look as she wound herself around his legs, but she darted off before he could pet her. She was going to have fun working alongside that one.

In the meantime, she had to make her displeasure with Albus known. His office was badly in need of a redecoration.

* * *

A/N: Ed's chapter is next! I'm looking forward to writing it, so hopefully it'll be out soon.


	10. Just Cat Things 4: Ed

A/N: So in Real Life news: my sister-in-law had a miscarriage yesterday. I tend to deal with my emotions by doing ALL THE WORK so I don't have to think about them, so it's entirely possible I might finish the second book really fast. Of course, it's equally possible I'll end the month with a very clean house and more cat pictures than is healthy, so don't hold your breath.

Warnings: Ed POV, so, like, enjoy the cursing? (I'm proud to say there isn't as much of it as I'd feared there would be.)

Disclaimer: I'm kidnapping Cat!McGonagall and adding her to my herd of cats AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME. Not even you, reality!

Summary: Minerva McGonagall is a former Auror, a stern professor, and a formidable witch. It just so happens that sometimes she's also a cat.

* * *

 _Just Cat Things 4: Ed_

Ed stumbled blindly into the teacher's lounge, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips to ward off a headache, located a chair by running into it with his knees, and gracefully turned and collapsed into it. It was just the right size for him to sit with his legs over one arm and prop his head up on the other, and he moaned with relief as he relaxed into the cushions.

He was only a little annoyed when his dramatics were met with the silence of an empty room. Sighing heavily, he opened his eyes to look around and make sure he actually was alone, and discovered a single tabby cat sitting elegantly in the middle of the sofa across from his chair, and looking back at him with what could only be called a skeptical expression. Ed scowled at it.

"What?" he snarled. The cat blinked back at him disdainfully, then dropped its head onto the cushion with a little (and kind of adorable) huffing noise. "Yeah, you and me both."

Turning his attention away, he fished inside of his jacket for the letter from Hughes that he hadn't had time to read in the morning. Knowing the man as well as he did, he assumed it would be full of well-documented stories of what Elicia had been up to in the past week. He snorted lightly when he pulled it out of the envelope and a smaller envelope dropped onto his chest. Oh, joy. Was he never going to escape from Hughes's picture obsession? (Roy must've felt this way for _years_ , even before he'd ever met Ed. Ed shuddered at the thought; he wasn't certain he could handle the enthusiastic picture showings for that long. He wondered how he was going to survive it for the rest of his life as it was. Maybe when Roy was Führer he could ban Hughes from ever taking a picture again. He relished in that thought for a long, blissful minute.)

The letter itself wasn't as bad as he was expecting. It started out with the usual excited babble about how beautiful and perfect his wife was and how adorable and perfect his daughter was (with multiple! exclamation marks! and weird little smiley faces), and then some talk about non-classified military affairs (boring), and then finally he got around to telling Ed how Roy was really doing.

He knew he should feel bad for using his husband's (that was _still weird_ ) best friend to spy on him, but Roy could be just as stubborn as him some days. He wouldn't want to worry his family about his emotional well-being after what Harry had just gone through, and Ed suspected he would just carry on pretending everything was fine until it was too late to make things better.

Case in point: somewhere in all the talk about his job, Hughes had mentioned how much he was seeing Roy and how the generals were suspicious of his sudden eagerness to work long hours, which meant Roy wasn't sleeping, which meant he was _moping_ , the idiot, as if he didn't know what road that led down. And Ed couldn't even say anything to Roy, because he'd end up revealing his source (because, c'mon, it was Roy), and then Hughes would send him _even more pictures of his daughter_.

Ed must've been frowning at the letter harder than he thought, because the tabby had abandoned her perch on the couch to jump up on Ed's chair instead. Purring loudly, she put her front paws on his chest and stretched up to butt the top of her head against his chin. Even Ed couldn't hold back a smile at that action, and he reached up with a careful automail hand to gently scratch behind her ears.

"You look familiar," he murmured softly. "Have you been wandering around with Killer and Hunter? I should warn you off; those two are nothing but trouble."

The cat seemed to be taking no interest in what he was saying, because she just kept purring and started to knead at Ed shirt. He gently untangled her claws with a roll of his eyes, then scratched at the side of her neck. The cat flopped over onto her side, eyes lazily half-lidded, and was clearly prepared to lay on his chest for the rest of the day. He decided to let her be for now.

The letter ended with a note that Hughes was sending extra pictures because he suspected Ed was moping almost as much as Roy was (infuriatingly, he probably wasn't even wrong). Damn, he just couldn't win today, could he?

He picked up the envelope full of pictures with a resigned sigh, and pulled the stack out. The very first picture was of Elicia in a snowsuit, building a snowman that reminded him of Breda, and smiling up at the picture taker so brightly and innocently it was actually painful. Ed was about to put it in the back of the stack when he noticed the cat had lifted her head and was sniffing in the picture's direction curiously. Ed gave her a suspicious look.

"So this is Elicia," he said eventually. "She's Roy's best friend's daughter, and honestly she's just as cute as he always rhapsodizes. She was born on my twelfth birthday, actually. Me'n Al were there, panicking. Let me tell you, if there is one thing I don't envy women, it's childbirth."

He stopped talking and gave the cat another suspicious look, but she was now licking the top of her paw and didn't seem to be paying attention to him. At least not until he moved on to the next picture (Gracia this time), which she also gave a curious sniff to. Giving a mental shrug, he entertained himself by providing commentary on the pictures he revealed. It was a nice little distraction from worrying about Roy, and he was starting to feel a lot better as he neared the end of the stack.

Which, of course, was when he found the picture of Roy.

He was laying on the floor with Elicia, very seriously directing what appeared to be an army of dolls against an opposing army of teddy bears. Elicia was just as serious as she looked up at him, her mouth opened wide in speech. It was so damn cute (and so damn _Roy_ ) that he felt a lump form in his throat as a vicious surge of longing settled heavily in his chest.

"Meowww?" the cat said loudly, headbutting his chin again.

"Yeah, so that's my husband," he said, then had to clear his throat as his voice almost broke on the last word. "He had to stay home, obviously, and I just—really miss him. It's kind of funny because I _hated_ him until I was like fifteen—or at least I wanted to, pretty sure I started crushing on him when I was eleven and saw his alchemy for the first time—and now I have a hard time getting to sleep when he's not in the bed. Annoying bastard."

The cat seemed to be able to sense how distressed he was, because she started kneading at his chest again. Ed let her get away with it as he stared at the picture for longer than was probably healthy. Finally, he took a deep breath and moved on to the next picture, which of course was of Roy again. This time he was playing paper football with Havoc (they'd even rigged up actual goal posts out of what looked like paperclips and toothpicks), but he was glaring at the camera as his football flew through the air directly on target to hit Havoc in the eye. Havoc was looking alarmed himself, in the middle of ducking to avoid getting hit. It was a nice, innocuous little image, and Ed managed a grin as he imagined what Hawkeye's reaction must've been.

The next few pictures were in similar veins: Roy screwing around at work with a smile and managing to appear as if he didn't miss Ed and Harry at all. Ed tried to dispel his worry, but the camera couldn't hide how tired Roy looked, and he wished for nothing more than to be home curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace with his husband and complaining about college politics.

And the very last picture was the worst.

The entire team must've gone out for drinks, because he could see Fuery, Havoc, and Breda laughing at something in the background, and there was an extra uniform jacket hanging over the back of an empty chair that could only belong to Hawkeye. But the focus of the picture was on Roy, not quite looking as if he was part of the moment. His arm was resting across the back of the chair where Ed would usually be, and he was looking at the empty seat with a gaze that was so bitter and resigned that Ed felt unbidden tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

He sat up so quickly that the cat ended up clawing him as she leapt for safety, but he didn't care as he shoved the pictures viciously (carefully) back in the pocket he'd taken them out from. He scrubbed at his eyes angrily to wipe away pointless tears, and growled at nothing.

"I've got to fucking get Roy out here or something," he muttered. "He doesn't need to be dealing with his depression right now on top of everything the fuck else."

There was the distinct feel of magic being cast, and Ed looked up with a start. His wand was already in his hand by the time he realized that what he was seeing was the end of a tabby cat being transfigured back into a human being.

"I believe that can be arranged, Mr. Elric," Minerva McGonagall said calmly, as if she regularly slept on the chests of young men.

" _You_ —!" Ed snapped, but couldn't say anything else because he just had _no words_. Minerva raised her eyebrows at him, her amusement palpable. He was going to fucking kill her.

"This Hughes of yours has been in contact with Albus for this very purpose. I believe the Headmaster was going to deny the request." Minerva gave him a slim, not very pleasant smile. "I'll convince him otherwise."

She started walking out of the room without waiting for agreement from Ed. He growled and stomped after her, not letting his glare move from the back of her head. Fine. First he'd let her get Roy to him, and _then_ he would kill her.

* * *

A/N: McGoogles is such a troll, and Ed is secretly even sappier than Roy is. These are my fondest headcanons and you can't take them away from me.


	11. A Whisper of Smoke

A/N: INSOMNIA STRIKES AGAIN. And apparently Depressed!Roy is enjoyable to write? IDK. Pretty much this is a few scenes from Children of Snakes from Roy's POV, because I can. (Set entirely during chapter eight.)

Now let's all pretend I'm not stupidly in love with this terrible song.

Warnings: MOAR DEPRESSION.

Summary: Roy doesn't deal well with being left behind.

* * *

 _ **A Whisper of Smoke**_

 _So I'll kiss you longer baby_

 _Any chance that I get_

 _I'll make the most of the minutes and love with no regrets_

 _-Meghan Trainor feat. John Legend_

The thing was, with both Harry _and_ Ed away in England, there was nothing to keep his darkest thoughts at bay.

He should have seen it coming, really. He's nothing without Ed any more, hasn't been since the brat waltzed into his life and broke down all his walls without even trying, and the fears his husband disbands are persistent in the silence of an empty house. A little voice somewhere in the back of his head always insists that he'll lose Harry to the new country, that Ed will find some young Englishman to be more desirable than the washed up general he left at home, that free of Roy's influence both of them will realize how much better they can do.

He knows it's ridiculous. He tells himself this several times a day. Harry loves him, has always thought Roy was the best father anyone could have. And Ed, hell, Ed had agreed to _marry_ him, had vowed to spend the rest of his life at Roy's side. He'd never have agreed to the ceremony if he hadn't meant it, and Ed's devotion was unshakable.

But the thoughts still came. Within weeks, listening to reruns of Harry's favorite cartoons failed to be enough to distract him. The letters he received from Ed and Harry failed to reassure him. The nights began to stretch long and endless and crushing ahead of him.

So he started spending longer hours at work, slowly shifting through more paperwork than he could ever remember doing in his life. At least there, with the bustle of the office to soothe him, he could push the thoughts away in order to concentrate on the _extremely important_ work that needed to be done.

Unfortunately, no amount of distracting himself with work was able to keep his lack of sleep and growing depression a secret from Maes and Riza. One moment he was pushing himself through the most boring report he'd ever read; the next, Maes was taking the pen and papers from his hand and ushering him to his office door.

"You need a break, sir," Riza said flatly when he gave her a beseeching look as he was jovially shoved out the door by his best friend.

"I really, really don't," Roy said, firmly, but Riza and Maes both gave him identical unimpressed looks. He gave up.

Maes drove him home, silent and serious. Roy stared out the window the entire time, pretending he wasn't sulking as he bleakly considered what he could try to distract himself with next.

When they walked into Roy's house, Maes guided him directly to the living room, where a fire was already burning and a suitcase was sitting by the couch. Roy stared at it for a long moment, then gave Maes a look of his own.

"I've been in contact with Dumbledore," Maes started, and held up his hands defensively as anger surged in Roy's gut. "Look, I know how you feel about the man. But the solution to your problems right now is so obvious I'm surprised you didn't just go to Hogwarts as soon as it started."

Roy stared at him, bemused. "You're sending me to Hogwarts?" he asked blankly, because he needed to be sure.

"I'm sending you to your family," Maes corrected, giving him a sad smile. "I think I know how you feel right now, with both of them so far away. You're always so afraid you're going to lose the people you love, and after so many near misses I think you believe you're due for it soon, one way or another. I'm pretty sure seeing how much they love you again will at least get you through a couple more weeks. So I owled the headmaster and asked him if it would be okay if you spent a weekend there because you'd been working so hard lately you needed a little vacation."

"That sounds...lovely," Roy said, a bit uncertainly. "Do they know I'm coming?"

Grinning, Maes shook his head. Roy gave him a little smile back, the best he could manage at the moment, and picked up his suitcase. One hand in his Floo powder, he turned to his best friend and said "thank you" with complete sincerity. Then he stepped into the fire before Maes could get ridiculous, as he most assuredly would.

Roy looked at his pocket watch as he approached the gates to the Hogwarts grounds, shaking his head at himself. He'd made it to the castle in record time, unable to pretend to himself that he wasn't desperate to see Ed and Harry again, and it wasn't even lunchtime in Scotland. Never having made any plans to visit his son at Hogwarts, he had no idea where either of them would be, and he wasn't looking forward to finding them.

Fortunately, when he looked up, he found a familiar face looking back at him with a sardonic eyebrow raised.

"Good morning, General," Severus Snape said, not smiling.

Roy wasn't sure how he felt about the man. Snape never failed to be polite to him, if not pleasant, and it was obvious he was fond of Ed (or at least Ed's brain), but something about him just didn't sit right with Roy. And Harry was certain that Snape hated him. It was difficult to like anyone who didn't like his son.

"Good morning, Severus," Roy replied, unfailingly polite because it was pointless not to be. "I suppose Dumbledore asked you to escort me to the castle?"

Snape snorted unpleasantly. "He wants me to show you to Edward's room and ask you to wait there," he said distastefully. "As if he doesn't know he won't return to it until after dinner."

Roy smiled thinly. "I suspect he would prefer I remain out of sight after our most recent discussions."

Snape's smirk said everything he didn't seem to feel comfortable saying, and they walked silently across the grounds. Judging by the number of children watching them with wide eyes, Roy must have shown up during a break in classes, so he was surprised when he was lead forward unhesitatingly. Ed wasn't always predictable in his downtime, Roy knew, but perhaps Harry had developed some habits?

Sure enough, Snape led him over to a courtyard that held quite a few students. Harry was sitting with his friends from his very first day on the train, as well as a little blonde girl he must have met that year, and was arguing with one of them over her homework. Roy paid little attention as Snape threatened the poor girl for cheating, too busy drinking in the sight of his son. The two children spun around at the sound of their professor's voice, and Roy managed a weak grin.

"Hello, Harry," he said, and didn't miss the brief moment of hesitance before his son leapt forward and hugged him around the waist. Roy must be more out of sorts than he'd hoped if even Harry could tell his grin wasn't up to par. He hugged Harry back tightly, not quite willing to let go even when Harry decided he was tired of being used as a teddy bear.

Snape eventually left with what sounded like dire warnings about being late for class, and Harry led the way to Ed's classroom. Roy kept an arm over his shoulder and listened to the children talk with a warm smile, enjoying this new view of Ed as a teacher, but did a double take at the rumors.

"They think _what_ now?" he asked in disbelief. He supposed he ought to feel jealous (Ed was his, and woe betide the man stupid enough to try to take him away), but he was fairly secure in the knowledge that if somebody _were_ to catch Ed's eye in this country it wasn't going to be _Severus Snape_. And he absolutely lost it at the rumor of Snape being Harry's father, because really?

Ed must have teased the poor man for days. Roy was faintly surprised they were still friends, but probably if either of them had lost their tempers there'd just been a lot of yelling until they both got over it. Ed had a way of working his way into your heart and making a home there without you noticing.

Roy should know. It'd taken him months to realize he'd been in love with the man.

When they reached Ed's classroom, Roy grinned charmingly at the girls already waiting because he knew it would embarrass Harry, and listened with half an ear as Harry explained Ed's latest questionable research habit. He leaned on Harry's desk and waited with the class to see if Ed would notice them, but Ed just kept scribbling away. More students rushed in, and Harry sighed as he reached for some parchment.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary today," Roy said, unable to keep the fond smile off his face as he watched his husband's increasingly erratic math. Perhaps it was time to step in. He ruffled Harry's hair on autopilot when his son groaned, but then the rest of the classroom fell from his attention as he stepped around Ed's messy desk and wrapped his arms around his husband's waist.

"Good morning, beautiful," he purred.

" _Fuck!_ " Ed snarled, jumping in surprise and thankfully obliterating the very beginning of his painfully wrong calculations. Then he turned in Roy's arms, cursing fluently in an impressive amount of languages, and glared up at him so fiercely that Roy couldn't have held back the cheeky grin if he'd tried.

"If it's any consolation," he said brightly, "your calculations really started to go off at that point."

Ed flailed at him delightfully, so flustered he was having trouble forming words that weren't just another string of curses. Roy was _very_ familiar with the expression. " _You_ —Bastard!"

"I've long suspected that's actually an endearment coming from you." Ed blushed adorably, and Roy tucked some wayward hair behind his ears fondly, for all the good it would do. "It's almost sweet."

"You're so fucking lucky I love you," Ed growled, poking him hard enough to hurt.

"You think I don't know that?" Roy asked, voice softening against his will. He cupped Ed's face and leaned in close, and Ed's expression finally softened. "I wake up every morning grateful to have you in my life, not sure what I did to deserve you."

"You sound like you think I'm going to leave," Ed said, voice thankfully as soft as Roy's own. He could have been angry about it, but something in his eyes said he understood.

"Never. But sometimes..." It wasn't a sentence he ever wanted to admit out loud. He kissed Ed instead, keeping it soft and simple and at complete odds to what he wanted to do, which was push his husband against the blackboard and kiss him until Ed stopped caring about all the research they were ruining. Somehow, he didn't think the children would appreciate quite _that_ much of a show, though.

Nor would Ed, judging by how hard he shoved Roy into his chair when he finally realized they had an audience. Roy laughed brightly—he couldn't help himself—and settled in to gaze adoringly at Ed as he taught the enthralled students.

When the class finally ended, Roy shooed Harry off to lunch and the door closed behind him with a soft thunk. Ed erased the bored with an irritated flick of his wand, then stomped over to Roy with a scowl. The chair really wasn't big enough for the both of them when Ed climbed on, planting his knees on either side of Roy's thighs, but the cramped closeness was strangely comforting. Ed curled a hand around his neck, leaning in, and this close Roy could see the concern he was trying to hide with anger.

"You look like shit," Ed snapped, which was Ed-code for 'I'm really worried about you and need reassurance right now'.

"I've probably been sleeping about as well as you have," Roy said, running a thumb across the dark circle under Ed's eye. "We should have realized we wouldn't deal well with the separation, love. Neither of us sleep well alone."

"Ugh," Ed groaned in agreement, slumping against his chest. "This sucks. If the Headmaster wasn't such a fuck up—but I can't find any good signs of the stupid Chamber, and this school is just riddled with weird magic—"

"You don't have to solve _every_ problem, darling," Roy said. "All I'm worried about is keeping Harry safe."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Did you know there's a curse on the DADA position here?" he asked lazily. "Noticed it first thing when I accepted the position, feels like a fucking cloud following me around. Strong as hell, too."

"So Lockhart's time here was limited anyway?" Roy asked with a frown.

"Sounds like nobody lasts more than one year in the position," Ed said, "and hasn't in like forty years. Can't believe nobody's broken it yet."

"Let me guess," Roy said dryly. "You're right on the verge of a breakthrough."

"Probably get it in a week," Ed grinned, adorably smug. "But that fucking _Chamber_..."

"No leads?"

"None that make sense," Ed grumbled, shrugging fluidly. "I'll get it. But right now, you."

"I plan to get plenty of sleep while I'm here with you," Roy assured him promptly, cupping his face and pulling him forwards. "Assuming, of course, we have time with all the sex we have to make up for."

"Pervert," Ed breathed against his lips, but he was still grinning when Roy kissed him.

The sheer exhaustion they were both feeling after the time apart handily prevented them from delaying rest for the sake of sex that first night. They fell asleep almost the moment they laid down, and in the security of each other's arms they slept through the night.

The morning was another story. Waking up still entangled with each other made it easy for Roy to push Ed onto his back, and he held Ed's left hand against the bed with their fingers entwined so he could feel the rings Ed never took off. Sometimes being married still felt like a dream. Sometimes their entire _relationship_ did, and he couldn't help but linger in the knowledge that Edward Elric loved him. This morning he drew out their lovemaking as long as possible, unwilling to risk that stopping meant a return to a much colder reality.

And in the afterglow, when reality continued to be beautifully surreal, he held Ed close and kissed him, lazy and content.

"Think we missed breakfast," Ed said eventually, but made no move to shift himself from on top of Roy.

"Hm, probably," Roy agreed, reaching out a hand to grab his wand. A lazy flick of his wrist had the time floating in front of his face, and he groaned. "We may miss lunch too."

"Like hell," Ed said, starting to push himself up. Roy made a wounded noise and rolled them back over, ignoring Ed's weak smacks and kicks that weren't trying very hard to move him. "Royyyyy, don't do this! I'm hungry!"

"I don't want to get up," Roy sulked very maturely. He made to kiss Ed again, but Ed turned his head and then nipped sharply at his cheek. "Edward, my love. Light of my life. Fire of my soul."

"You stupid sappy fuck," Ed grumbled fondly, pulling him down into a kiss. Roy knew better than to think that it meant he'd won, and wasn't surprised when Ed proceeded to flip them over.

Unfortunately, the play-fight that ensued only ended up with Roy on the floor with a bruised tailbone as Ed disappeared from the room. He sat there for a long moment, silently bemoaning his fate, then went to join his husband in the shower.

They were late to lunch, but that was okay. It only improved the gossip that had been following Ed around since he came to the castle, and Roy was more than pleased when he heard the students slowly figuring out that Ed belonged to him. Perhaps he was a bit over-possessive—Ed would definitely be the first one to say so—but he didn't see any reason not to make sure everyone knew who his family belonged to.

Fortunately, he had been granted several more days off to get his message across. And he intended to make full use of every moment.

* * *

A/N: I fully meant for this side story to be much longer and cover Harry's attempts at alchemy and whatnot, but unfortunately I started freezing every time I tried to go any further than this. So this is, unfortunately, where it will have to end.


	12. Bugs

A/N: I…don't actually recall writing this story? It was finished MONTHS ago, but I wanted to post _A Whisper of Smoke_ before I posted this one and. Ugh. Words are hard. (Set during chapter 11 of _The Children of Snakes_ , after Harry and Ed's little bonding moment.)

Warnings: You should probably brush your teeth when you're done reading this.

Summary: Ed is far too happy to wait until a reasonable hour to share his news. Roy really should be more annoyed by this than he is.

* * *

 _Bugs_

Roy stared drowsily at Ed's image in the fire, resisting the urge to check his watch again to see if he'd noted the time wrong the first time. He knew he hadn't. He just couldn't fathom what Ed—what _anyone_ , really—was doing up at this hour, and was mostly hoping that this was just a dream.

"Okay," Ed said, his eyes bright, or was that just the firelight? Either way he was beautiful, especially right now. Something had made him exceedingly happy, happier than Roy could believe, and, oh god, was he envious of something he wasn't even aware of yet? He was. He was envious of whatever had made his husband happy that wasn't him. His life had officially hit a new low. "Okay, so you can't say anything at all until I'm done because nobody's hurt and everything turned out fine, I swear. Even me. I'm not even bleeding."

"Well, this is starting off delightfully ominous," Roy said. "I notice you haven't mentioned that nothing has blown up."

"The forest _is_ still standing!" Ed snapped, crossing his arms and glaring. "It's just spikier than it was before. And has a few less spiders. Neither of which is the _point_ here, okay, the Acromantula are definitely not the point. It's after that I wanted to tell you, but we have to get through them first—"

"Ed, love, please go back to the beginning," Roy said tiredly. "I'm not nearly awake enough to keep up with you right now."

"Sorry," Ed said, voice quieter as something like guilt settled into his expression. Dammit, that's not what Roy had been aiming for at all. "I didn't wake you up, did I? What time is it there?"

"The time is far too early to be named," Roy muttered, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "But, no, you didn't wake me up. You know how well I sleep. I'm happy to hear from you; I'm just not terribly alive at the moment."

"Yeah, I hear you," Ed said softly, and the smile he was giving Roy now was tinged with sadness. Roy knew exactly how he felt. "Anyway. So today—yesterday?—today Harry comes up to me with a note telling me that Hagrid told him and Draco that if they want to find out what's going on with the castle all they have to do is follow the spiders. Apparently they've been looking for some for months, but only managed to spot a couple recently, and you know where they were headed, right? The Forbidden Forest."

Roy closed his eyes, already feeling the impending headache. "Please tell me my son didn't go into anything named 'Forbidden'."

"Yeah, you know, I'd love to tell you that," Ed said slowly. "I mean nothing, literally nothing, would make me happier than to say that exact sentence—"

"Edward."

"Roy, if I tell him he can't do it, you know what he says? He says I would've when I was twelve, and he calls me a hypocrite." Ed's scowl was impressive by even his standards, and Roy was fairly certain that the majority of it was aimed at Ed himself. "Hell, I'd already survived worse by that age. I haven't exactly got a leg to stand on here."

"There are plenty of arguments you could make, darling," Roy said, but not very firmly. He and Ed had already had this argument more than once, and he wasn't really feeling up to having it again. "But perhaps you can try them next time. So Harry went out into this forest?"

"Yeah, Harry went," Ed said, glaring at him but letting him get away with avoiding the argument. He mustn't be in the mood for it either. "Dragging Draco along with him, though he seems to enjoy it. And, uh, I might've gone with them to make sure they didn't die."

"How thoughtful of you," Roy said.

"I thought so," Ed agreed. "Look, I gave them _Felix Felicis_ for all the fucking good it did, and I made up a new protection spell on the spot to prevent them from getting hurt by physical attacks as much as possible. Gonna have to tweak it a bit when I get a chance later. But I did everything I could and nobody got hurt, okay?"

"So you've said," Roy said, starting to get suspicious. "Several times now. What _did_ happen, then?"

"There might've been an Acromantula colony," Ed said quickly, making Roy's heart jump straight up into his throat. "And we talked to them, but when we tried to leave they tried to eat us, so I made the kids run ahead while I kept them back, and I think some centaurs gave them a ride out of the forest. You know how hard it is to get them to talk to you. Oh, and did I ever tell you I think there's a basilisk in the school?"

"A basilisk?" Roy echoed faintly, and almost didn't catch Ed's grimace. "No, you failed to mention _that_ little piece of information. Why in the world did I let Harry stay there?"

"Because it makes him happy and trying to get him into a school back home in January is impossible," Ed reminded him promptly. Roy sighed with feeling. Perhaps even a bit melodramatically. He felt like the night called for it. "Should I remind you now that, as of this moment, nobody is injured? Because nobody is injured. And I'm not done yet."

"Oh god, there's _more_?" Roy asked, not sure he wanted to know. "What can be worse than the basilisk?"

"Not worse," Ed said. He was starting to smile again, and Roy remembered that this conversation had started because something had made Ed happy tonight. "Harry managed to convince himself that he'd talked me into an adventure that got me killed—don't laugh!—and I told him that there's no way I'd let myself be killed by a bunch of spiders. Like you'd ever let me live it down."

"You're right; I wouldn't," Roy agreed. "I can see your grave marker now. Would it make you angrier if I used the 'Hero of the People' moniker, or if I called them bugs instead of arachnids?"

"I knew you would fuckin' call 'em bugs," Ed growled. "Kid thought it was a joke."

Roy snorted with laughter and felt better for it. "Bugs it would be then."

"Shut up," Ed snarled. "I _also_ said you'd put the usual shit down, you know, 'Beloved brother, devoted husband,' all that sappy nonsense you like so much. And Harry—he thought you'd also want to put down that I was also, y'know, a great dad or whatever."

Then Ed blushed bright red even as he outright beamed. Roy stared a moment in surprise, and then a grin spread slowly across his own face.

"He isn't wrong, you know," he said, grin widening as Ed blushed brighter and put a hand over his mouth as if he was trying to hold in his happiness. "You're amazing with him, and you have to know he loves you."

"Yeah, but I'm not his dad," Ed protested, his voice muffled by his hand. He belatedly removed it. " _You're_ his dad. I'm just, I don't know, some guy that lives with him. Shit, he was seven or something the first time I even met him."

"Sometimes you have a bit of a narrow view of what a family can be, love," Roy said fondly. He wished like hell they'd been together for this conversation. He wanted more than anything to just hold Ed right now, and he could tell by the way his husband was leaning forward that he wanted the same. "You've been around for long enough that there's no reason Harry shouldn't consider you his dad if he wants to."

"So you don't mind, right?" Ed asked, strangely anxious. It was Roy's turn to put a hand over his mouth, but for him it was to hide the smile on his face. He forgot, sometimes, that Ed could be so horribly self-conscious, and that he looked adorable every time he was.

"Why in the world would I mind?" Roy asked softly. "I'm thrilled he sees you as a father and not just 'a guy that lives with him', and it clearly makes you happy as well. What more could I possibly ask for?"

"I dunno," Ed said with a shy smile. "A full night's sleep, maybe?"

"The only thing that will help me get that is having you here, darling," Roy said. "Then I suppose I actually would be the happiest man alive, wouldn't I?"

"Oh, gross," Ed said, wrinkling his nose. "I should've known this would make you all gushy. Don't you think you could spare me the pain, just this once?"

"Sweetheart, your reactions are part of the fun," Roy said, ignoring the way Ed echoed 'Sweetheart!' in a tone of outrage. "Nothing is quite as inspiring as the expressions that cross your face every time I remind you how incredibly beautiful you are. How you make my life better just by existing. How much I long for—"

"Okay, that's enough, Mustang." Ed stabbed a finger at him. "I didn't call you up at this hour to listen to this fucking drivel."

"And yet here you are, beloved," Roy sighed happily. "Still listening."

"And here I go," Ed growled, making exaggerated movements to prove that he was getting up. He was so thoughtful. "Considering dumping my latest potion on your stupid face just to watch it explode."

Roy laughed. Ed probably would do just that.

"I love you," he said. "Please at least make the explosion spectacular."

"Severus'll kill me if I actually do it," Ed grumbled, holding out his wand to put out the fire in a more mundane way. "Love you too, Roy."


End file.
